This can’t be fate,
Always coming home late
I look at the time, it’s half past eight.
Drunk and cursing with eyes filled with anger and hate.
Why you always hit me and abuse verbally and one time even physically is that how you operate.
You promised me happiness on our first date
Oh how wicked a liar you are always cheating on me with Kate
We’re suppose to be a team but you refuse to co-operate
So much for love, bags under my eyes cause I cry all day and night asking why you act so vituperate.
From the king