One of these late afternoons,
as the lights slowly began to fade,
From nowhere he came
And shook my hand
And called me friend
And took my heard earned money to his opium den.
He had a gun
I'm sure of it
As a matter of conscience
and common sense and impotence,
He must have had one
Else he'd be too gutsy to just come up with a line
Take my wallet and fly like a weightless bird with no reason to run
Just walk, stroll, slide, in full fledged glory of achievement done.
He'd be too damn ballsy then.
I mean, he must have had a gun.