Alvheid

I always really liked Alvheid.
She had the prettiest hair of all the Norwegians I knew
And the sweetest voice.

Which is how I recognised it screaming one day,
When I rang up my boyfriend to say hello
And upon her muffled cries for help, he said:
‘Now’s not a good time babe, can I call you back?’

Murdering Norwegian girls just wasn’t like him
(Yet at the same time it made perfect sense),
So I decided to go to his house and sort this mess out
Once and for all.

When I walked inside there was blood everywhere.
It dripped from the walls and it went all over my new shirt
When he hugged me and kissed me hello,
‘What a nice surprise to see you here!’

Apart from the blood, which he said was paint,
(Seems legit, right?)
There was no evidence to suggest Alvheid was ever there
So we sat down to breakfast and he asked what I’d done today.

When I told him I had rang him and thought I heard him murdering Alvheid,
His expression turned menacing and his voice low and gruff.
He swapped his cereal for an axe, shouting ‘You better run babe!’

As I ran through the streets, trying to escape
I blamed myself, naturally.
‘Why didn’t I see this coming?’
‘This is so typical of him.’

 

 

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