GUN IN MY WAIST
Because we’d come here to meet,
I’ll wait, gun in my waist,
set on my stance, as smoke
billows in the air, the showdown
in an empty city street.
You there, standing with nothing
but despair, don’t play me for a fool;
are you the one that’s come
with sturdy hands to bring me down
and strike me to the ground?
Because we’d come here to meet,
I waited, gun in my waist,
and here you are, hawk-eyed
and ready to spark, to shoot me
down and wear the winner’s crown.
Next thing you know, these guns will
blow, you’ll get yours, yes you will,
the time has come to kill Despair,
that rotten snake, before I am
ensnared in its wretched shape.