Killing Time

His low blows once struck and left no trace,
But today I smashed grandfather's face;
I smashed his face and cut my fists;
With shard-grained knuckles, scarlet wrists
I held his hands in mine.

I opened up his antique chest,
Snatched the heart out from his breast,
Raised the dicky ticker high aloft;
Felt its leaden weight was hard not soft
And marvelled at my crime.

I'll crush all those that ring alarm,
Break each and every waving arm,
Smash faces in and sever hands,
Bury pieces under shifting sands;
Today I'm killing time.