Beware the nice man
he wears shiny shoes
his suit fits him well
As it grew on his skin
Beware the polite man
For he musn’t know
He owns the street
As he watches you fall
Beware the nice man
He gambles you out
His promises are
From another world
The water is rising
To swallow you whole
The nice man tells you
About flying cars
Beware the nice man
For he musn’t know
Beware the polite man
He won’t ever know
Beware the nice man
For he calculates
The worth of your flesh
Is what he demands
A number on your skin
Decides your fate
The right of your soul
Is not his concern
Beware the polite man
With his orange glow
He spreads your legs
With your lips glued shut
Beware the polite man
His back hides a knife
Beware the nice man
His oven is hot
Beware the polite man
His right arm is up high
Beware the nice man
For he musn’t know
He owns the world
When it’s about to blow.
“So”, my witch sighs. “When it’s a business model, genocide is fine?”
“That’s world I have to face”, I tell her.
Mistress witch writes 