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.