Low riders of night
Tungsten Black
Mask on, prone to no light
Cocked back
Single hand taking a life
Levels of insanity
Crazed for another puff
Demon with no humanity
Simply can’t get enough
Give me more
Show me gore
Spill it and laugh
Cut him in half
Stuff him with gravel
That’s not a road to travel
Bruises and exhaustion
Next step taken with no caution
Overwork my emotions
Break down with even more devotion
At the end of it all, blood stained concrete
I thought I was done
Scared, I shot myself with my own Glock 41
Secretive life that is never-ending.
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Itarow Krähe 