Oven out

Buggered if my biscuits
didn’t turn out like stones,
and my muffins are like bullets
in the butt of Al Capone.

My life has been disastrous,
I’d be better off dead.
My oven is just waiting
for my suicidal head.

Goodbye, cruel world!
Now I must pass
through death’s unyiel—
Fuck, I’m out of gas.


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