Old Poem #2

I recently re-discovered this one folded up on a small piece of notebook paper tucked away in a drawer. To the best of my recollection I wrote it about two years ago, which would make it the oldest poem I still have that isn't from high school. And no, I am most assuredly not going to show those. Ick, so embarrassing.
Anyways, it's called The Ballad of Bullet Head Boy. For better or worse, here it is.

Mary Lou wanted to fly
Whattya know
I guess she died
Went down to Hell
Where all the bad people fry
Oh...and the demons cry:

Bullet Head Boy use your head
Do it now before she's dead
One more time she's in her prime
Use your bullet head one last time

Bullet Head boy wanted Mary Lou
Whattya know
I guess he's screwed
Went to the churchyard for somethin' to do
Dug up her body from six feet deep
Lay down beside her and went to sleep
Oh...and the demons scream:

Bullet Head Boy use your head
You can't do it now
She's stone cold dead
Like vinegar wine
It's past your time
And your bullet head is past it's prime
Oh...and the demon's cry:

Can't you see, it's all a dream
She's coming apart at the seams...