Seven
Caged
between the screaming
And a
endless ream of shooting
Joe and
Cherry
Somewhat
were the only two
To
actually make it
Behind
the bar
Without getting torn to sheds
Ducking
and diving
Like
professional soldiers
Between
Mandrake’s bullets
And the
band’s hunger
That
killed hundreds
In a few
heartbeats
Holding
onto their ears
For
seemingly a eternity
Until
there was nothing left
But a
silence
And
Mandrake’s exhausted chant
‘Come on,
I ain’t f**king finished’
And what
was the singer’s voice
Laughing
in the shadows
‘Neither
have we, neither have we’
Pulling
up dozens of people
Like a
puppet master
To throw
back at him.
No comments:
Post a Comment