2011/03/07

Regulator - 2011/03/07

Starving breaths tickle his neck
Harsh greenery assaults his face
Beads of sweat detonate as bombs
When hard pursuer increases pace
He once had a gun but it is lost
Left by the wayside of ruin road
In the hands of the old swindler
He haphazardly attempted to goad

Fists and feet weapons of choice
Of those intent on terrible acts
Fearful and fearless knock it up
Too intent to cover their tracks
Such a simple story out of chaos
First the chase later the rumble
Further down the path lay a body
Where one took that final tumble

There is no moral for this story
It bears no lesson to be learned
As a body lay dead another hides
One got lucky another got burned
Pick a winner I dont really care
Whatever way its my job to chase
For I am the monkey on your back
Shoving the justice in your face

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