You’re cramping my style
Talking all loud
Must be proud
Of your achievements
Leave me in peace
With my bereavement
Good grief, I’m in mourning
The shot was only a warning
Got me an inkling, hand me an ink pen
Written in the palm of my skin
linked in to Armageddon
day of reckoning, rekindling
raise the dead out of bed
will till, until I’m out of breath
there’s nothing left
it’s out of my hands
no more strength in my left
I’ll write... all right