He was fresh meat as soon as he entered the courtyard

Walking in attending his own funeral like a fresh ghost

Toads following his ash footsteps like a tragedy

His winter bones crackling, bloody eardrums

He used to watch me from my window, it was sweet almost

His eyes were like a knife, piercing like a sting

The riot in his soul was thriving for acknowledgement

My roof was bare like i’m staring at my reflection

My eyes looking into my strange unruly chest

He was dangerous and i knew it

His limp had barbarian stares following his footsteps

But he carried his gun on his good leg and when he was wronged

The hounds were set loose looking for a fresh meal

Tearing the limbs like a rabid animal

His salvation will come when his charred feet reach the bottom of hell