| I stole the bottle of gin from over the counter and ran,
|
| I knew i’d been seen. |
| i scarpered stifling giggles down
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| The street and hid round a corner on a side street.
|
| I heard him huffing and the sound of his big feet against
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| The paving, he was getting close. |
| as he rounded the corner
|
| I sighted him up down the barrel of the gun and on seeing
|
| His expression change to one of horror + confusuib jerked
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| Back the trigger. |
| his body was jolted back by the force of The bullet + his feet flew foward. |
| i saw a bright little rivulet
|
| Of blood are into the air and i slid the gin into the waistband
|
| Of my trousers.
|
| Who you fuckin lookin at?
|
| Who the fuck you lookin at?
|
| Who the fuck you lookin at?
|
| Who the fuck you lookin at?
|
| Is there really a thing like feeling too much?
|
| Can you really escape + numb the real?
|
| There’s a way of saying, a way of sayin a shape — i feel a Certain shape and it’s complicated it’s not like a square or A circle it’s like crystal or diamond, it’s clean, hard,
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| Unfathomable and it ends in an augmental kiss
|
| It ends in an augmental kiss
|
| Who the fuck you lookin at?
|
| Who the fuck you lookin at?
|
| Who the fuck you lookin at?
|
| Who the fuck you lookin at?
|
| Rock stars are not cool
|
| They’re full of his guy they call satan,
|
| Kids stuff oozing from their mouths.
|
| They wear the shoes of dead soldiers shot by soldiers, valium
|
| Horses trotting squeezing through their rasberry blood.
|
| Sometimes i feel so stoopid i wanna quit — get out of it cus
|
| I hate this world and everyone in it — the fat bald men who
|
| Run it — the fat bald men
|
| Who the fuck you lookin at?
|
| Who the fuck you lookin at?
|
| Who the fuck you lookin at?
|
| Who the fuck you lookin at? |