The Gun

Swallow and transcend
In your head
Colours crack your eyelids but you'll never tell them apart
Girls on the west end
Better dead
Loneliness will chain you like the hollow man that you are
Bedbound, contorted
Is it dead? Are you dead?
Emptiness will find you in musuems made for the arts
Digital warhead
Up ahead, Infrared
Missiles moving past you like the hollow man that you are
Cultures clash in the heat of your words
Concrete crash for diminished returns
The gun shouts start and you jump to your feet
And the godforsaken heathens hold their heads in defeat