For him the song took a whole new meaning,

a control that made him wish to control others.

“Something's gotten hold of my heart”

an evil, a darkness

he mused on midnight

and the encroaching demonic hours.

 

 

3am and a stereo's blazing in a stolen Volkswagen Beetle

inaudible white noise, a prerequisite

for the red mist to follow.

 

“He seemed so likeable”,

assumptions are funny things.

Not funny ha-ha

but the narcissistic humour

of self-glorifying madmen

that just had

one bad day

that changed everything.

 

They make killing a joke,

he made it his life's work.

 

As he sat in that chair,

cafés and work canteens across the Atlantic

enjoyed the remnants of a British winter

riding radio waves,

singing Something's gotten hold of my heart.