Sunday, March 13, 2011

Funeral For A Friend

I don't normally write Slam but this was necessary before my head popped off.

"Funeral For A Friend"
The callow talking smack at a funeral
Beneath my boot as grit and I hit
The street again. I walk my Thunder
And I am in to take anybody down
I'm a Stryker; but I bring it with the
Clown, insane at the thought of you
Trying to bring my posse down—you'll
Think you're hard only til I start to frown.

The grease is slick on the street where
We meet with the Bats painted pink
Just to make you think was it twice
I said that thing to that one guy was he
Queer or Trans did I Bi him a drink to
Apologise to the kids in the room, the
Storm swelling now to spell my doom
And the cold gut sweat as we pass you by
THIS TIME but what

If you're thinking now we're a force to be recognised
We're a populace with our own sovereignty
As we seek our own serenity at a funeral
Don't you dare intermission, a Missionary
position is not desired, just sit a while, don't
Interrupt with a sermon cos Doggy Style's
The only way to keep from getting bitten now.

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