I'm going to punch you (John Lennon)
Out walking
I’ve got a shovel
And a crow bar
And a copy of Catcher in the Rye
And my fists
I am going
Going to punch you
Like a priest
I move with holy purpose
Towards an asshole
Unlike the priest
Not in a sexual way
Though I have seen your
Semi-erect penis
Pigeons cover your grave
And I shouldn’t be surprised
As I am in Central Park
Beady eyed freaks remind me of you
My fists aren’t for the birds
They are for the walrus
And by walrus I mean you
I dig and pry up the stone
Inscribed with “Imagine”
What the fuck
You aren’t here
I check Google
You sneaky bastard
Your ashes were scattered
I was going
Going to punch you
John Lennon
More like
Gone Lennon
Get it
Because you’re dead