Hello,
Mr Number Two.
I should have known
you will end up
this way too.
Stop running around
and acting a fool.
Come lie down here,
in this casket
where you should.
The soil
on Number One's grave
seem overturned.
Ah, I see.
He had risen
from his grave
once more.
Quit grinning,
Mr Number Two.
Your jaw is rotting
at its hinges,
it's falling off soon.
You ought to cut down
on your sugary treats.
It's probably
speeding up the
decomposition of
your brains too.
So just shut up,
you're uttering
glibberish.
If it isn't
that Mr Number One
is nowhere to be found,
I would have buried
you back into your grave.
Oh, my darling
Mr Number One.
Shouldn't you
be in this coffin
where now only an
empty bottle of whisky
can be found?
Didn't you say
you'll listen
to my rantings
down six feet under?
Wasn't it you who
say I could
water the weeds
on your grave
with my tears?
Now your bones
aren't even here.
Well,
I'm letting Number Two
roam free.
He doesn't deserve
a grave.
He never ever
mattered much to me.
Thus Mr Number One,
I shall sleep
in his stead.
For an eternity,
for that how long
our love should be.
In the afterlife,
maybe you won't be
who you were.
But it's okay,
just bring a new
bottle of whisky.
I shall wait in peace.
