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.