Borderline Love Lyric 2 

I'm prepared to waste police time,
hoax the hogs to hold up your new life
(a dawnraid can be quite the turnoff),
coz I've got a ruthless screw loose 
apropos of yous twos.

I'll be the Hans Christian Anderson of benefit snitches,
dupe dole snoops to query 
your cohabitation's riches.

I'll be a warrior on your wedding day
- interrupt the ceremony, guns ablaze!
Cartridges amongst the canapes!
The Benjamin Braddock who's more
'Hey Joe' than 'Mrs.Robinson',
I'm prepared to waste policemen.
We'll be Raoul and Juliet,
but you'll know wherefore art I fucking am, pet.

Hell hath no wrath 
like an incendiary exboyf,
wrathstrength of 10
cuckolded Charles Bronsons
(a side ode to adrenaline: 
hormonal chainmail, biochemical kevlar
of 10 cuckolded Captain Cavemen,
buzzing untouchable as a doorman glutton
on all the contraband confiscated
off his own granny at the British Legion rave,sonny).

My way or the highway, tho' I must add
there's a killer on the road.
My diagnosis is Rightismitis;
the prognosis: explode!
Bloodlust is the best buzz left
once love has bit the dust.
Daddy of buzzes being a boss
bigger than bossman of them or us,
biggest bastard bossface there is:
destroyer of worlds, Daddy Dustbunny!
Going totes psycho like that, like 
a real exhusband of Hungerford
throwing a mantrum of applied red mist,
berserker victimhood 
summoned with a suddenness 
so incomprehensible it's unforeseeable 
so unforeseeable it's incomprehensible
and makes a macho 
craphead's caprice omnipotent. Red mist 
turning all to dust before it,
like the God of the Old Testament
- original end-of-level baddy.
Here's Johnny!
Somebody's sonny boy, somebody's daddy.

Before she met him,
she was mine-mine-mine!
Don't say 'I do',
I say die-die-die!
I wanna Glasgowkiss the groom.

The only difference between me and the Joker
is that I'm not the Joker.
I'm the world's 2nd fully functioning homicidal artist
(suicidal ones aren't fully functioning).
A psychopath might think
he's having a good time,
but he doesn't know what he's missing.
Lucky thing!
O all the interpersonal falsework, legwork,
jinkwork, jerkwork, jedwork
just for the excruciating perks
of normal pleasures. Emotional overload's 
a flippin' fuckedup thing...
I can't take it when I lose;
I can't give up when I win.