Out of Line

What’s unknown, if it’s me assume the worst –
what little’s known of me runs worse to worst.
You hate me? Get in line. You’re not the first.

Behind my back, what gossip! I don’t mind
you stabbing at my back. See? I don’t mind,
just join that long line stretching out behind.

Let’s dredge up sewage from my wicked past,
pollute our future with my evil past.
Come get in line! Don’t wait until you’re last.

You want me gone. You’re wishing I were dead
as dead can be. Damn me, I should be dead.
Who’s first in line will first take off my head.

“Substandard,” right? That’s what you think me? Fine,
now find your place and don’t dare cut in line.

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