That's That

I have an alley-cat, but he is a cool Kat
He is a rat eating fool of an orange cat.
He believes he's stylish 'cause he has his own dish
Wish I could stop him from fucking with my goldfish.
There are kinks in his tail, livid green eyes so pale
I've a great deal of urine stained heirlooms for sale.


He yowls loud when he talks, he will pilfer my socks
My large potted plant is now his private litter-box.
He has big furry paws, he breaks all the house laws
When he chooses the fine couch to sharpen his claws.
He is a big ol' thing, he is chiseled and lean
He whips any cat because he's raunchy and mean.


He's a unique old dude, a kick-back attitude
And shows some affection if he's in the mood.
This terror by night, prowls until first light
Chasing down pussy while searching for a fight.
And at dawn it begins, he knows it is a sin 
But he constantly cries until I let him in!


--I feed a living fur-bag that sleeps in my bed
he is not worth much and that's fact.
--And though his fur mode is in a constant shed
he is still my cat and that's that!


During his graveyard shifts, he bestows me with gifts
Bloodied, dead animals that leave a smell that drifts.
He sleeps in my chair when I want to sit there
And his life shall be lived with hardly a care.
Although he is nameless, and acts so damn blameless
When my friends come to visit, I can feel shameless.


--Because he is an alley-cat, a cool Kat
my big nasty, orange cat...            
                         and that's that!