Whoever he was, he’s dead now —
Beyond our justice anyhow
You slice it. All the same, we’d like to know
His name, if only so
We can can eviscerate him in
The dark alleys of public opinion.
Beyond our justice anyhow
You slice it. All the same, we’d like to know
His name, if only so
We can can eviscerate him in
The dark alleys of public opinion.
The letter everybody says
He didn’t write was in red ink because
The blood he had collected in an empty
Bottle of ginger beer congealed too quickly.
They think it was a newspaper man,
Propping up the flagging circulation.