he wrote three poems that night and all hell broke loose the children looked through the windows and fell in love with sin the men stood on the misty northern platforms waiting for the trains to take them to the front and the women wept for hours because they were afraid of change
he wrote three poems that night he stood high up on the city walls and fired them at the crowd with his magic Beretta shotgun to a bunch of innocent by-standers who would never return to their homes sane and they laughed and they felt awkward and they knew it was up to them to sing in tune or disappear forever
he wrote three poems that night one exploded like a space shuttle in the frozen black sky the second burned the gates and freed the tigers from their cages and the third roamed the streets with a wicked smile - dynamite strapped around the chest and high on acid like a bulletproof *******
it was the night the dogs were barking his name and the signs on the walls were painted blood-red while all the communication systems broke down and nobody was ready