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pray do not talk so loud you might be overheard

I’m a always shooting. I’m a fiend, I’m a sniper.

The inner arm, the highway, in the back rooms

I pay my piper,

inside toilets, petrol stations, in bars or lost friends squats,

abandoned factories, in my bedroom and late night parking spots .

You see, I’m intrigued I’m fascinated,

I’m serene whilst assassinated,

I’m committed I am focused,

me the piranha, me the locust..

I will shoot for me, I will shoot for you…I will shoot when you don’t really want me to.

I shoot when I feel good, I shoot when I feel low, I shoot because I have to, I shoot, I shoot to blow.

Its a trying one this, the curious always ask,

from where does it originate? How do you decide?

What sparked the idea? Why oh why oh why?

I cannot fathom answers, I have no correct reply,

I only know the feeling and the mantra ‘have a try’.

It soothes me all this shooting, it keeps emotion live,

it feeds the soul, it has it role in this dire life of mine.

When the adrenaline is rushing when the eyes are bright with lust,

if a similar vein is mentioned, I know I feel I must.

The humdrum always softens, the madness steps one back,

I like to be here often, I like to bear this cross.

My vices cause me trouble, my calling keeps me broke,

I cannot stop this shooting and gossip I provoke.

What is man if not destined, to kill all that she loves,

and grotesque her thats sinned and excluded from above?

Shooting the sky at all cost, shooting the squalor the pain,

shooting my fellow scholar,shooting for loss and for gain.

We all have our defects, our iniquity lies so tame

And I?  I have my shooting, my fault I cannot blame


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