Wednesday, July 19, 2017

Know Your Place

 All was well, on the green hill..... A flock of sheep grazed, life seemed to stand still....
  Day in and day out, all was happy amongst the herd.... But one, was bored, felt cornered, and answers were blurred...

 It spoke to the sheep dog about life down below... Deep in the valley, where the dark trees grow....
  In the land of the shadows, where blood spills daily, the wolves and wild dogs behave insanely
Logic they consider bravery, but just outlandish inhumanely, viewing death mundanely, and for us its just profanely unsavory, and just too crazy!

 And that's why I watch over you, day in and day out....
Guarding your flock, as you happily graze and fuck about....
You view me as an annoyance, but if I wasn't here, the predators from below would happily appear....
The sheep became curious and ignored the dogs warning, and was found torn up and gutted the following morning...

  Most of us, give up our existence for a life of slavery and pain...
Giving up on trying and persistence for pushing buttons, making mistakes over again...
Some of us, hold the gate from barbarians and killers ...
Hated by the button pushers, but called on for assistance, for crumbling pillars ...
A few of us, make the rules and keep the cycle of life turning.... 
From newborns and mothers yearning, to lemon aide stands in cities burning
  The ones with the war chromazone, can survive the night alone ....
And for the rest....
Welcome to the terror zone....

  Alone and terrified on the back streets, where the killers sleep, while widows weep, piano wire in hands waiting for another black sheep....
  It's gonna be a chance meet after a little track meet.... Gonna squeeze you so hard I am gonna make your ass squeak......

 Monsters in the thick fog, pull you in the wet bog.....
Beat your face in with a rotted log, and cue you like a juicy hog
King of the terror squad, eat your ass like a bulldog...
All the polliwogs must give their life to the bullfrog...
Murder, murder, murder, kill, kill, kill...

   It’s such a thrill, chopping, as the pigs squeals ....Is this a dream or is this for real?
My cold steel is hungry for another kill....
  In like a lion and out like a lamb, the extension of my hand will greet you like the Son of Sam...
  I’m an evil man that likes chainsaws and mossberg saw offs....
   Breaking laws for applause, your last laugh will be a blood cough....

   Part of me is frowning and the otherside is smiling, as I cross the great divide with my punk rock styling....

   I shot the devil in the crapper and laughed at the brain matter....

   The last man standing with a gun acting dumb..... One last hooray nasty off the Puerto Rican rum.... All the beasts, creep away from the the rising sun.....
Howling in the darkness, just for fun....

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Letters from Syria