Dead Kelly

Dead Kelly

To myself, no-one has ever been any snider
I was bold and malicious, yet I couldn’t make cider
Difference between Damien and his potential, like Les Dawson, could not be wider
So I harped on of my history
And became hysterical, heretical, hideous hider

I orienteer, I know the terrain, had a map yet still got lost
I’m going to my own embassy, to place an embargo with two fingers crossed
I will beat my damaging demeanour, I will challenge my cost
You could set your watch by my frequent, frivolous frost

How you stand out, is only what our schizoid embellism embossed
Akin to vegetables in a salad bowl, and what extent they’ve been tossed
The ladder of my life, every rung was meticulously mossed
Nastrovia! Skol! Bottoms up! Cheers and fucking Prost!

But I’m not bitter, I could be a lot worse than I am
For, like a magician, abracadabra, deh deh but couldn’t remember shazam
Miss Marple is only a backwards Spanish guy called El Pram
Nearly fooled yous, only me in my life, that aint no scam

Do you not see, I told Mr Warburton to get into bread
Mr McDougal only made flour till I introduced him to Father Ted
But I never flew or flourished, I strolled upon street cred
Never thought of what I spoke, thought of only what they said

You see, I need me like a cavernous hole in the head
I still believe in fraternity, the cause for which I’ve bled
Me and myself, not married, sort of whimsically wed
I walked uncharted path, where others fear to tread

Decapitation, le guillotine, off with his head
I need to examine why I chose famine and never got fed
I wear a thick jersey in the Mersey, should’ve been shorts in the Med
I am my own outlaw, last name Kelly, first name Dead.