Have you ever played a game?
Where your life was at stake?
You pass the gun around,
Hoping to avoid your fate.

Once the bullet erupts,
Your life will be swept away,
The odds are five/six,
You fear you leave today.

One lies dead,
The gun is passed on,
No memoir for Jimmy,
Maybe a letter to his mum.

Two have now collapsed,
Ritchie's blood stains the ground,
The gun gets passed on,
Slowly making it around.

The count is now three,
You start to sweat,
Your poor mate Drake,
Lies upon the deck.

The next bullet misses,
Hits the dog,
Your lucky friend Dan,
Avoids a death job.

The gun is passed round,
Nerves start to rub,
Two bullets left,
Three men looking tough.

Another bang breaks the silence,
Freddie drops like lead,
You Dan and Mixer stare.
Yet another friend dead.

The death weapon goes to Dan,
He holds it to his head,
With courage he shoots it twice,
You and Mixer avoided death.

You stare at five bodies,
Which litter the dirt,
Blood and sweat mix,
Death and its curse.

By Siobhan
Date: 3/April/2004