This man has no conscience,
He has no time for life,
Everyday is a persisting drag,
Stuck at home with his nagging wife.
He longs for some piece and quiet,
He longs to be dead,
He loathes to see people laughing,
He’d rather fill them all with lead.
This man is so sarcastic,
He just sits around bitter and twisted,
Wishing he was dead,
Lying in his coffin bed,
He’s got no conscience,
He’s got no conscience at all.
When he was a school boy,
He was sullen and depressed,
He hated life and despised life,
And all his so called friends were pests.