I'm going to punch you (John Lennon)
Out walking I’ve got a shovel And a crow bar And a copy of Catcher in the Rye And my fists I am going Going to punch you
Like a priest I move with holy purpose Towards an asshole Unlike the priest Not in a sexual way Though I have seen your Semi-erect penis
Pigeons cover your grave And I shouldn’t be surprised As I am in Central Park Beady eyed freaks remind me of you My fists aren’t for the birds They are for the walrus And by walrus I mean you
I dig and pry up the stone Inscribed with “Imagine” What the fuck You aren’t here I check Google You sneaky bastard Your ashes were scattered
I was going Going to punch you John Lennon More like Gone Lennon Get it Because you’re dead