WHIPLASH
Dusted with those words, he’s tainted
Only a coward wastes the chance
Shoot em’ down like birds, blood-painted
As all kinds of swarms cease to dance
Just in your point of view, they were watching
Two mind’s draw their guns, quick to judge
But thick in their drive
A motor waiting to release its steam
Methodically growing like a disease.
No comments:
Post a Comment