XIX Tamerian Tsarmaev
How did it feel as you lay all askew;
A dozen fibbie bullets in your gut,
And your dear brother driving over you,
Leaving you to die; some sort of nut?
You charged the cops, fool! Did you hope to strut
Right past the Feds and flip it in their face?
You might have got some slack had you not put
A satchel bomb at Boston's sacred race!
You hoped to disappear without a trace;
The execution of the cop--no help!
And now you've found that quiet eternal place;
A just desert for such a lawless whelp!
You would have done far better taking meds
Than throwing IED'S at all the Feds.
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