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