Murder, she spoke

I killed a man last Tuesday. 

I stabbed him in the heart 

My words flew swiftly through the air

And stuck him like a dart
I don’t know which ones did the job

Because I spoke so many 

All I know, from the results

Is he remembered plenty
Was it when I told the truth?

Or when I told him lies?

When I told what I thought of him?

Or when I told him why?
I couldn’t tell you, to be frank

Nor do I think I should 

It wouldn’t be as fun to do

If anybody could
It takes a certain kind of heart

Or lack thereof, indeed

To kill a man with just your tongue

Is not an easy deed
It takes a smile, it takes some work

To instill in him some hope

And then you wean him slowly till

Without you he can’t cope
And then, when you’re all that he’s got

You take it all away

It might not be a quick method 

But it’s the safest way
And then, when what is done is done 

And you’ve finished your haranguing

Keep up your feet, and wait a while 

Rest assured that he’ll be hanging 
Done in by his own free will 

But your own hand did guide

His own in which the knife was held 

And which he plunged inside 


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