Paranoia is the key to survival, scratching at the side of the face to turn away the hair which covers the side ways and glimpses.
From the casket to the basket, it's a ring a ding ding, they sing on a whim and whistle their cares away. Careless lot that they are, blind and deaf to the oncoming advances of the bullets and pocket traces of lead heading their way.
Duck! Duck! Duck!
Dead in the water, feathers all brown for the red washes away so easily now.
Written on Wednesday, 11 April 2007