Tommy guns for insurance
And wads of sweaty cash
To build new empires with

But there are no guarantees
Crime, you see, doesn't pay
You can bank on it

So we already know how it ends:
They canceled his policy
And Dunaway with her

the silvers of the moon
sing their song of winter,
exhilarating above the black
rock and distant trees, her
fire lights the night like a
street lamp, the shadows
thrown back, muted,
echoing the near-teary darks
of the clouds. i sit on the
window sill, look out,
breathe deep the midnight sky
built of love and winter rose.