This was completely spontaneous. Almost don’t know where it came from.

“Sad Bazooka Life”

Canons were your cradle,

Bayonet pacifiers spurt sweet blood.

Pistol mother’s so proud,

Deadly babe’s so loud.

(-----)

Bang-bang with your little princess gun,

Surge and splurge, crack a lip with your whip,

Temptress of death, just choose your tool.

(-----)

Gunner girl now made woman,

Strike and smite,

Your venom words bite.

(-----)

Let your throwing stars fly,

Slice through all guise and lie.

Creep to your left,

There’s grenade in your step.

(-----)

Bullet your way,

A magnum a day.

Killing is your play.

(-----)

But only tears grace your years,

Like cold, crooning metal.

Your love is purely fatal,

And you ask, ‘Don’t revolvers make fine lovers?’

(-----)

Though t’long last, you take rest,

Wounded being, address your nation.

With every stab and jab,

Reach weapon heaven destination.