Klowngun
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My mama’s first love was a vile ex-Marine
But the blood and guts in her heart
Could have washed Pilate’s hands clean
Her lips were like an anvil dropped from a cliff
The fall had almost killed him
And then that anvil hit
I remember hearing someone say,”because we don’t know when we will die, we tend to think of life as an inexhaustible well..” I recognize the speaker. While the words chopped themselves free from the speakers lips and tongue, I remember saying, “your words have become
the inner portico that will at once become your doom.”
The speakers reply has since haunted my soul, and corrupted my being. The speakers words came low, at once, but in a very short time, really, the jarring repetition had become rival to
the brutal ringing of Perkūnas’ hammer, after he wagers his exposure against that of his enemy..
Yes, but only metal.
And calliope festivals, brutal punk / hardcore, and tributes to Charlie Poole and the North Carolina Ramblers.
My best friend, Tacky-O
