I have a gun.
Someone'sdead.
Did I kill them for fun?
Or was it defence?
I think I know them.
They look like me.
I feel the joy of ripping them limb from limb.
I know I killed my innocence
I hear the alarm.
I have committed hard.
I run to the corner.
And run for the water.
I see a boat.
I get in and paddle.
It's at a float.
Till they fire at the water.
It starts to sink.
I swim for my life.
I grab my gun and their dead with a blink.
There's the feeling again.
I kill more and more.
The color of blood fascinates me.
What do I kill for?
The pleasure of my angered soul.
View User's Journal
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Some are hunted some are killed,
All that's hurt if lucky will be shealed.
However the ones who are wanted the most,
Shall have no futer, no love, and no hoast...
All that's hurt if lucky will be shealed.
However the ones who are wanted the most,
Shall have no futer, no love, and no hoast...