Gangs

Red rivulets flow through the air,
Like a river, spraying its foam--
And the man falls prone,
The only movement is the wind in his hair.

I change my target-- aim my gun,
Pull the trigger-- and on I run.

Searching left and right,
Waiting for the enemy to move.
I have nothing to prove--
This is just business... something catches my sight.

I lift my gun once again
And fire at the churl.
The figure falls into the light and I see it's a little girl
I have slain.

I think "That's life",
And I continue on my way--
Because it's not my job to say
What is wrong and what is right.

I lift my gun-- and reload,
Pull the safety-- and on I go.
I see my mark-- he's up ahead,
I pull my trigger-- and now he's dead.

Emotionless, I continue
On my dark path,
Unleashin my wrath,
Blasting anew.

Life is a battlefield--
A constant war--
I want more,
I won't yield.

Death, destruction, decay.
It's my job now-- to kill for something I don't believe--
It makes me want to scream--
To run away.

But as I shoot and my gun goes "Bang",
I realize my dreams a joke.
Why? Because I'm stuck
Here in my Gang.