In a snitty motel that wreaks of fiss,
Where nomadic roaches go floor to floor,
Cracked out faces that sometimes hiss,
Hang out beyond the peeling door,
Roaming the halls there is a banshee,
A she beast from the pits of hell,
There's a madness in her eyes you see,
Wide and angry like the devils who fell,
She screams and rants making her threats,
Not knowing I do not fear death,
She's a coward you know in the way she frets,
I'll maintain a calm steady breath,
I mind my own business,
As I wish she would do,
She'll swing and she'll miss,
And that is my cue,
To move as is proper,
To such an aggressive advance,
If I'm fast I can stop her,
I must remember the stance,
For it does seem inevitable,
Despite peaceful strides,
This woman's unstable,
Mad I refused to take sides,
So she thinks she has a right to my life,
Sooner or later she'll make her play,
I've faced worse than her in strife,
If she doesn't back off I'll give her one really bad day.