This One's For Timothy

It's only the second time
someone's ever dedicated a song to me on stage.
It only serves to hyper-focus my annoyance
with certain sections of the crowd around me,
who are ignoring the constant calls for a bit of hush.
I want to drag these people outside
by their ludicrously back-combed hair,
push them down a sidestreet
and run them through with
a rusty blade.
Preferably an agricultural sickle.
I want to see their hot blood
bubble and steam onto the damp cobblestones
and rise effortlessly into the night sky.
If I can be bothered, I may even
skin them whilst they still draw breath
and wear their worthless flesh like
a scuba-diver might wear a neoprene wetsuit.
Is it really so hard to keep your
fat flapping mouths shut for a half-an-hour?
Show a little respect, eh? Thankyou.