Peter Piper
Revolving on earth’s axis, my axe is hanging in the shed
Blood stains, of past pains, and the chunks of Peters head
He deserved it, so he got served death, took his breath
Shook the rest of the small town, with its profound meth
Peter thought that his endeavor would work in his favor
His name did come to fame, in the obituaries of newspapers
Screw me over? Ended up screwing your grave shut
Flew high in the sky, as you see how deep you had cut
Thought you could hurt me, you fought for your life
Brought all you could offer to fight, and you died that night
Don’t need to mention, all of the tension that we had
I destroyed the real burden, and somehow the towns mad
Peters Peppers
Peter had his peppers, like birds feathers, stuck to him
Leader of a group, who grouped together to the end
Peppers is a synonym, he picked them, to get rid of them
Sick of them, stick a pin in his brain stem, with no condemn
Peter had the power, to devour, those who he felt ashamed
His name, so his cult, by no meanings their fault inflamed
In gulfs of literacy, not so literal, branding victims chest
The label of an indescribable, describing Peters the best
Peter ended up crossing me, rendered the remorse of village
Village took his side, for a free ride, cult and town pillaged
But, Peter being left alone, to his own, I will always dread
Instead of a choppy fate, my axe would’ve dug right into his head
As I clean, my axe, of mean Peter’s blood, I sometimes ask
Where did all Peter peppers come from, and where are they at?
“Run for fun, Mother…decaying as I lay dead, physically, mystically, I wondered would my kill create thunder down under…Peter if you hear me now, wow, I never dreamed of the day, that my crafty way would make you pay, and lay six feet below, but the toll of your greed for peppers, as Mother displayed, her need portrayed, dislocated, wish you made it, giving our own Mother abuse, Peter that’s what happens when your peppers took over your love for Mother Goose”
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