Little Child


Your child is so twisted,
And I know you think he's cute.
Sitting by the fire place,
Pacifier banging against the persian rug.
But he's watching us with those eyes.
Yes can't you see, because he does!
Look at his imagination click on,
He wants you dead, yes he does,
This little child of yours.

Can we kill him now,
Can we watch him drown?
Can we stop him before he starts?
This little child of yours.

He'll grow up and start by
Putting spiders on the stove top,
He watches them disappear in smoke.
Laugh it up baby boy because you,
You can't fool me, I'm not blind
Like your mother, your poor mother.
He kills cats in the alleyway,
He wants you dead, yes he does,
This little child of yours.

Can we kill him now?
Can we push him from the balcony?
Can we stop him before he starts?
This little child of yours.

He's just a baby now I know,
But I can see it in his smile,
Just give him a little while before,
Well before he's got you tied up
To his new bunk bed and screaming at you,
For not understanding him!
Scream at you for not being there for him!
He's a sick one, this smiling baby boy.
Look at him puke on your shirt,
Look at him shoot his friend in the eye!

You're next,
You're next,
(It was an accident officer!)
You're next,
You're next,
(She fell down the stairs!)
You're next,
You're next,
(I'll miss her so much!)
You're next....

Can we kill him now?
Let him fall from the window sill?
Can we stop him before he starts?
This little child of yours.

Originally Posted by Crowquill (Post 424035) Is it about Stewie Griffin?

Twilight to Midnight

From my twilight to my midnight,
I wonder these things charmingly:
Who would I be if I wasn't me?
I'd be the lady caressing her children's cheeks,
In the park whispering warnings about the
People passing by and I'd sigh,
And tell them not to talk to these strangers,
Or else they would surely die.

What would I be if I wasn't she?
A bear without a will to live,
Climbing into the tallest trees,
Shaking everything from my faith,
To the branches and to the twigs,
And I'd unleash my roar and fall I'm sure,
And I would truly die.

And if not what becomes of me?
I am the oldest man alive.
As my skin cells fill my wrinkles,
Like the sands in the desert,
I'd cough the driest airs,
And attract sympathetic stares,
I hope to fall asleep in my favorite chair,
And I'd be happy to die.

With a flourish I cry! "Behold ye, I am me!"
Without the choice of genetic divinity.
A smile like a wolf and eyes like
Tragic actors fooling fools with smiles,
And revealing the truth with disguises
While my eyes fail to beguile the,
Ones who love me most.
And even if I tried I could not!
I'm too alive to will myself to die.