Death In A Drive By

An old rhythmic rap about American Excess cards and gun culture. To be read aloud with a pulse preferably…


 

DEATH IN A DRIVE-BY

What could be worse than being shot in a drive-by

A block in the back of the head by a fly-by

Talked half insane by some half-assed wise guy

Getting stoned to death by a dread-locked I-and-I

Blinded right and left by two fingers of red-eye

Your heart lies in ruins after one bitchin’ bye-bye

A last supper microwaved ending up ionised

Secrets are scattered in a death-rattle final sigh

What could be worse than a Death in a Drive-by

When the whole Western World is living a White Lie?

~~~~~~

What could be worse than living dead as a beach bum

A hole in the head from a wise-cracking dum-dum

To lose the will to live in a mind-numbing humdrum

Drowning in whispers in a deep bowl of dim sum

Becoming enslaved to two black bottles of white rum

Lust-fuelled excuses when you know that you can’t come

You’ve nothing to say when your feelings have gone numb

You’re just a dirty dish in a sink full of pond scum

You’re eating humble pie down to the last crumb

A bovine steroid suck-ass choking on used gum.

~~~~~~

{ the camera pans across the crime scene

where a flash mob dressed as Marlon Brando

incongrously scat then scatter }

~~~~~~

Love like a cheetah when your libido’s on go-slow

Your life-story bombs when everybody’s a no-show

Like watching drying paint with the camera in slo-mo 

Discussing your philosophy with people you don’t know

Santa pays for threesomes with his slay-riding ho’-ho’

Because you make your moves when the signal’s a no-go

You haven’t got a clue on how to go with the flow, Joe

There’s more to confrontation than to sneak in a low blow

Your taxi-rank gets hackneyed when she calls you a ho-mo

You’re chewing on a bullet when she cancels your promo

She’s a seppu-can’t debutante who bleeds in her do-jo

The emotional stability of a spasticised yo-yo.

~~~~~~

Praying for salvation in empty dust-covered pews

Searching crucifixions for the faintest of clues

Starry-eyed and witless reading yesterday’s news

Room full of cent jars for that impossible cruise

Another wingless bar-fly getting bug-eyed with booze

Sperm and blood and vomit on your blue suede shoes

That’s what life is like when you’re paying your dues

You’ve got nothing but a future – and a past you can’t lose

You’re up there on the rooftoop breathing fumes from the flues

You’ve got a sniper rifle that you know how to use

A douchebag with dynamite and you’re lighting the fuse.

~~~~~~

And you’re praying….

(put your hands together and pray for some fresh meat)

yes you’re praying…

(put your hands together and pray for some fresh meat)

yes you’re praying…

(put your hands together and pray for some fresh meat)

~~~~~~

{ it is night in Manhatten

the corpse of an innocent

cools on the sidewalk..

a doe-eyed cathedral choir

serenades a prelude

to the sirens… }

~~~~~~

What could be worse than a Death in a Drive-by

When the whole Western World is living a White Lie?

 


(c) 2016 paul D E Mitchell – audio music and instruments and voices by Paul D E Mitchell.

      11-Death-In-A-Drive-By

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wassup blud? u is da badassest motherfucker in da hood, 4 real!

Blimey, mate. First Pronto, now you. Surely it’s only a matter of time before all the middle-aged men on this website are swaggering down the road with their trousers halfway down their arses and their baseball caps back to front, coated in bling and saying “Suck my dick, pussy mofo, I’ll burn down your grocery store!”

Respect blud.

kipper

This deserves a response but I don’t quite know what to say. There is certainly a rhythm going on, and I enjoyed the rhyming device. Rap is not something I naturally turn to (as often as not it’s hard to keep up to) but here I rapped at my own speed (It makes smile to say it) and quite enjoyed it. Would have enjoyed it a little more perhaps if I had been able to get to grips with what it all means. (Archiemac clearly did not suffer that problem)
Heres to the next time,
Michael