Collaboration

Micheal
Roy Gama
Words of Anthrax
&
The War Torn Poet


Set off blasting these serial killers
Creeping an Cripping up and down our blocks
Bet we got Straps
We bought out da backs my homies Lacks
Demons lurking the nights
Preying on your Souls like thieves in the night
You'll be tucked in praying tonight
Creeping On The Wrong Blocks
Straight running the Tiers

We're under attack
Don't hold back
Am having flashbacks
Of Bloody gray slacks
As my veins goes cold
My face looks pale
Boy I'm sold
I'm in Vietcong Vale
God help me
Enemies flank my side
Bullets whiz by
I'm going to lose it
Like Hanks did and cried
Give me a hand
So good and so planned
Wait
Here I had died

With heavens counterpart,
Hells flames of high, angel wings of bright -
Starlight fills my eyes reminiscing on times where I tried to save lives.
Bombshells clang by agent oranges side
Chemically inducing minds as if Anthrax designed.
Bones piercing sides, I'm picking up friends by their skulls tonight.
Flashbacks of devils grace -
Makes me hesitant in todays new age
As it kills my sanity bringing me to my knees
This fourth of July as the sky sparks fly.
Cause the world is dark
My mind can't be dark
My mind drafting for a say
My soul lonely as an angel fallen from
heaven
That once sang hosanna at night
Oh twice sang hosanna,
with the reason not to lose sight
Oh that fruit in the garden made me lose weight


© The War Torn Poet