The requiem of life,
the instrument of death,
the gun or the knife.
Lament languishes through NYPD blues,
walking in the shadow of death’s shoes.
As the drummer plays the LAPD Beat,
a victim is butchered on Slaughter Street.
A sacrificial lamb, a picture of purity,
made evident through insomnia’s insecurity.















Comments
--
"Et je suis assez élevé de tous les d'attente
Pour monter une vague sur l'inhalation de votre
Cause je t'aime pas?
Ne peut pas ne pas vous aimer, non ... "
------ Frou Frou
--
"When we talked, I talked about me, you talked about you, when we should have talked about each other." - (Michel Poiccard in 'A bout de souffle' )
Bravo!
-gh
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