I told him I was writer,
And saw his scheming glance,
He could live forever,
If I gave him a chance.
He thought I would write him in every story,
As the dashing hero,
But I guess it is time he learned,
No one can control a writer you know.
I typed his name in ink as black his intentions,
And said it was no mistake that he was the villain,
Because that is all he would ever be,
To a writer like me.