Pump-Pump-Stall…
We see them fall.
It’s ending this,
Quick. Near hell

Three doors, one
Choice. Sayonara sun,
It’s been fun. But
The hours up.

Soon yours will
As well. Up that hill
Climb to salvation.
To meet his grin.

Tolls tick with
Souls, healthy but sick.
Have they seen,
What we should?

Not necessary. See
The man, all green
from greed? But
You’re shut, away…

Rifles-roll, hands of
Adolescence. Let shoved
Into false honor,
And hopes to gain.

Soon twelve is
Your unlucky, number.
Spare fright to love
A flag. Will it bear,

The warmth, of
Mother or fathers
Touch. Really its no bother
Stay out of hell.

Priests would howl.
Experience your life
Previewed to hell.
For the better.

Stories stay with
The mind, when a
Seat has been saved
For you on the hill.