Posted by Erik Moshe on Saturday, February 11, 2012 Under: Rhymed Verses


Be a dictator when I grow up, throw a few anchors around
When my knees sprout dead weeds and my hardship sinks to the ground
Awaiting the wind to guide the strand of weight in my hand
When it's all gone I've still got my 3 acres of land
Everything builds off another so I pray as a man
Sit and soak in the rural warmth, aim for a tan
Aim for a plan, that trickles down the roots of rebellious folks
Grainy armies of farmers aiming to stem their own rebellion's hope
Spend a crummy summer on the porch due to travel restriction
One night in Grenada potato tumbleweeds, flasks filled with liquid
Hitch a free national ticket on the toxic train clash of the stick shifts
Trailer park disaster evicted, convicted for disobeying the 10th amendment
Birds are dinosaur descendants, strive for independence,
Take a garden utensil to the backyard fossil, bend the plow, bend a brow
If a mass power outage doesn't teach you something, use the weapon now
Follow the scarecrow's finger to the back alley grimace
Ghost town children gathering buckets of rainwater for the Rhino-back village
Want a grimy black image? I squawk until I feel it ripple the tide of my lungs
Mash the red clay into to my gums with a grind of my tongue
Seek the outland shadows to survive, that's the pride of the slums
Take all the undernourished youths on an environment trip
Grass replaces hair, chewing on a plant at the side of my lip
Hospitality Plymouth, absorb the rattlesnake venom, listen to Charles Dickens
Time's tickin' - one taste will offer you the great expectations of fried chicken
Die quicker if the crows get you first, split stone on the holster
Can we pleast give silence a moment for showing respect,
Write on lily pads with a swamp toad on my shoulder
A termite infested house and home of the fly, carcasses
Octopus farm bandit, spit ink, sling a rope to the sky
You can lose your roughneck image with a roll of the die
Cutthroat North American rebels you could try and bargain with
And if you haven't seen the desert light, you need to open your eyes
March to the sounds of the war drum, resistance lunatic
Another world war savior with a stash of vodka and lubricants
Infamous rifle bandit in the hue of unison Clint Eastwood used since birth
Landfill miners or enveloped human bodies in the fume of work
Just another roof remnant ready to crumble to the humid Earth
I've got enough heat in my glare to smoke the pews in church
Freezeframe at the 10th step wondering who drew it first
Seeking through the screen door, STRONGARM and Vulgar,
The sun sentinels of the universe.

Another S & V open mic, who'd have known?
That two human beings could rule this long
Anybody else can proceed to start running again
Before we press the tip of the blades down the plum of your lips
Country Diablos - not to curse, but, who fuckin' with this?

High plains drifter with six shooters and a blood colored sash
Eyes remain fixed without a quiver as slugs hover past
Wind swept lined roads witnessing vignettes of dying souls
Brutally executed in firing squads with cigarettes and blind folds
A murdering menace never burdened with penance
Filled with a DeathWish and remnants of bourbon I’ve finished
Once conspired for the type of life that some admire
Not a gun for hire rather righteous like in the sun retired
Somewhere on a ranch raising livestock with chicken feed
Maybe rescue a chick in need and together raise up a gifted seed
A wish indeed from a sinner on a course of profound wrong
Cuz in reality I’d fuck you and the horse you rode into town on
No sight of good in this leader of a thousand hired hoods
Burning towns to the ground using housing for firewood
Breathing an air of arrogance with a rifle, a terrorist
Pillaging villages taking the "THE" out of "PSYCHOTHERAPIST"
Then harrow hits, news of a new sheriff in town
Hope he's fast on the draw cuz if not that's a perilous crown
No civilized talks just shots provoking violence
Instead of pennies for thoughts using pennies to cover up eyelids
Roaming rolling plains bathed in the suns glowing tint
Face provided shade under the shadow of a beard growing in
Back in the saddle the stranger with a smoldering voice
Sipping insecticide from infected hives my poison of choice
Drinking non stop until I vomit needing a pale or I drop
An alcoholic physician, I'll nurse whatever ale that you got
Death is certain and certainly for sale while demand is high
Wish I could stop it but with this bondage fetish my hands are tied
Pistol aimed to the sky for your escort while elevating
To Heaven by the bullets I fire on earth while celebrating
Unleash and score shots leaving chests with more spots
Than famous sets of ink blot tests invented by Rorschach
Sombrero bandolero dressed in awesome feral apparel
And a poncho concealing a shotgun sawed at the barrel
Timbs fitted with spurs I'm not the type to trust
A decision's absurd, if you fight with us you bite the dust
Gun fight scenes rumble streets but not before magic surfaces
When otherwise unseen tumbleweeds appear for dramatic purposes
Country Diablos blazing trails despite the hopeless times
Vulgar and STRONGARM, the model of potent minds,
Riding off into the sunset with Hells fire following close behind..!

In : Rhymed Verses 

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