Hello. We don’t know who the fuck you are.
Presumably you’ve done some nasty shit.
We’re here to guarantee you pay for it.
We’re gonna kill you in your fucking car.
You’ve done it now; you’ve really gone too far.
Your demographics are a perfect fit.
Google terrorist: you’re the first hit.
We’ll drone your ass and then we’ll hit the bar.
Oh, um, we also got your kids and wife,
your goats, your fields, your buddy who stopped by
to catch a lift on market day; though we
regret all unintended loss of life,
we knew that one of you was number three,
or near enough to number three to die.