There was war
or riots everywhere
Fire and fumes in the sky
Shots, screams, helicopters

He shot my girl
in the bar, the spanish bloke
I noticed he was really nervous
beforehand
Silver revolver and
lines of blow
on the table beside him,
      Panic

Gangrene in my foot
The war goes on
We live and breathe chaos

Telephone mumbling
   the time is running out