When I step on your miserable toes,
Do not flatter yourself that i'll be sorry--
It is because you’re invisible
If your clothes were as fine,
And your shoes as sleek as mine
Then probably I wouldn't dull your shine
When I sneer at your looks,
And spew at your presence
It is neither by choice nor design
You nauseate my stomach
When I call you in spitefulness
It is not to denigrate your lowliness--
You’re a miserable excuse of a person
I would spare you the shame for your name
And pile it on a stick at the roadside
But you’re the son of a whore,
Some drunk’s bastard brought on earth
An indelible mark of disgrace to humanity
If your birth was without blemish
If your birth was without blemish
And your name worth of a tittle
I would address you in propriety
