I always dislike a fatal finish
I never sing about it if I can choose
and I abhore the obvious irkish
time of the year I’m too jumpy to drink my booze

I never like an unbeliever
I never trust in confidence
I get the creeps from a deceiver
reading over my shoulder for intelligence

I never liked clipped conversations
things should be carrried out whole-heartedly (all the way)
a shot in the back is a poor provocation
I’d rather shoot head-on, and quite openly (with no overplay)

I hate sweet-talking truthful variations,
the itch of doubt, the edge of praise
to be sucked up to in all situations
and the shattering sound of glass hitting iron raise

I also dislike the prim goody-goodies
when they enter the scene it’s time for a break
in the puddle of slander thrive all the backbiters
while honour and dignity is at stake

I never felt sad for, nor pitied the crippled
felt no mercy for people with broken wings
don’t like powerlessness and can’t stand power
but thoughts of the crucified Jesus mournfulness brings

I abhore myself when I am too yellow
to see an innocent bullied I can’t endure
that they dig in my soul while they bellow
and spit on it, I hate for sure

but the worst of it all are rings and arenas
where talent is sold for a cheap success
let everything change for the better
I won’t ever like it, nevertheless