Killing Comb

The Summer I



Simmered simple in the sand,



No tongue- tied



Mum and dumb,







The comb, it just



Found itself in my hand



I stood when I



Should I run.







A conspiracy



Those fellows and me



And the comb, the way it's going



Hardly I



Hardly I



Hardly I knew him



But he had to die.







To establish



Whereabouts, where for?



If guilty, flawed or more



The world would find me



Sprawled on the floor



A vulgar foreigner



A conspiracy



Those fellows and me



And the comb, the way it's going



Hardly I



Hardly I



Hardly I knew him



But he had to die.