Walking home from work, I was mugged last night
By two miserable Bronx children in the fading light
When pushed against a car and stripped of my things
A disturbing calm came over me that theft rarely brings
But with time and sleep, rage now rises inside me
At the little punks’ sheer, unadulterated audacity
The loss of my ipod, new headphones and sunglasses
Is nothing compared to the smiles of those asses
Broad and proud at the victory they had won
Over a tired little faggot all in a game of fun
I walked away unscathed with the air of a monk
In my mind wishing them both the worst of luck
That they should rob the wrong person some day
And end up beaten, shot dead or carried away
Their lives will lead to a misery that is thorough
Whilst I have reason enough to leave this godforsaken borough
