Quick, cold, calloused liar!
Slick soul burning with fire!
It takes a toll on the will and desire,
Killer for hire.
Situation dire.
A gun can't tire -
'Bang Clang!'
The gun gang sang
A song that ran
Severe, through the slums.
As an ode to the bullet band.
I own something!
The name of a group.
A tattoo.
A sweet, sick family too.
Hit list.
Red fist.
Picture this;
Pink mist.
It's the sickness of the lost ones,
Bound together by fate
And I relate to your
Can't beat me,
Beaten down swagger
And I too sleep with a dagger.
The gun gang sang
A song that rang
Like an anthem
To the lost ones.
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
Quick, cold, calloused liar!
Slick soul burning with fire!
It takes a toll on the will and desire,
Killer for hire.
Situation dire.
A gun can't tire -
'Bang Clang!'
The gun gang sang
A song that ran
Severe, through the slums.
As an ode to the bullet band.
I own something!
The name of a group.
A tattoo.
A sweet, sick family too.
Hit list.
Red fist.
Picture this;
Pink mist.
It's the sickness of the lost ones,
Bound together by fate
And I relate to your
Can't beat me,
Beaten down swagger
And I too sleep with a dagger.
The gun gang sang
A song that rang
Like an anthem
To the lost ones.
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