The Cycle : Revenge, Recovery and Then?
Sharp, sinister pain in the back.
Don't know if I'm shot or if I'm stabbed.
Face down in a puddle of rancid rain, (kissing concrete)
A man could drown this way.
Waking up to a hospital ceiling
In a room with a view of smokestacks,
And the constant fog that clouds this grimy town.
Thoughts are racing like greyhounds through my morphine soaked brain.
"Who pulled the trigger and who pulled me out of that gutter?"
"Where the hell are my guns?"
"Who's gonna pay the ultimate price when I get out of this place?"
Don't know if I'm shot or if I'm stabbed.
Face down in a puddle of rancid rain, (kissing concrete)
A man could drown this way.
Waking up to a hospital ceiling
In a room with a view of smokestacks,
And the constant fog that clouds this grimy town.
Thoughts are racing like greyhounds through my morphine soaked brain.
"Who pulled the trigger and who pulled me out of that gutter?"
"Where the hell are my guns?"
"Who's gonna pay the ultimate price when I get out of this place?"