Buddy knew the bitch
Had his back
For biting.
And, boy, that bitch could fight!
Mourning, noon or right.
Unglued was a state
She ran with a fist
And there was no truth
That won’t be twisted.
Nobody missed it.
She was Satan, Satan herself.
And Buddy knew so very damn well.
She was his cross to bear.
And Buddy did not care
To think about that wait.
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