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Psycho 

It should have been me in that shower
Stabbed with a Butcher’s knife
Entering virgin flesh
Soap and bubbles irrigate the wounds
Blood-letting down the throats of worn pipes
My fate in black and white
I’m the one who should be slumped
Over the edge of the bathtub like a dead body
Pruned fingers, ass in the air wet hair
I want to be carried cold and dangling over Anthony Perkins’s arms
Thrown into the trunk with the spare tire, a tire iron
Driven into a swampy grave
I am dead body number one making Hollywood history
Scaring the bejeezus out of girlfriends who jump into the arms 
Of their boyfriends who love me for bringing them closer to second base