The lot is vacant,
My lot surrounds
The pavement.
We are not craven.
We'll smash and bash,
A thrill for me,
A thrill for us all.
The authorities are called.
Objects aren't built to last,
Why does it matter at all?
We're on the run,
Fugitives of a chase,
Before imprisonment comes,
We'll mutilate the place.
Originally written 11/12/09
Revised 11/22/14
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith