Silence After the Gunshot

There’s a silence after the gunshot is fired,
We stood our ground while sitting down,
Now we’ve achieved what we most desired,
Now we fear being brought down.

Running from that bleakest of scenes,
Away from your shrilling screams,
A moment’s peace broken by bad aim,
And we become tangled in this game,
You lie there coughing up bloody phlegm,
Sirens wail, we run from them,
We didn’t want it to come to this,
Until we heard your snakelike hiss.

You sold us out to our biggest rivals,
So we sold you out to God,
And despite all your religious denials,
You begged for salvation from God.

Betrayal of the lads was a stupid move,
You really upset our movement’s groove,
A bullet to the heart was too good for you,
They want to reward us with a bullet too,
We keep running in random directions,
Far from police and gangs’ detections,
Carelessly throwing the gun away,
Thinking they wouldn’t hunt all this way.

Word comes that you've stopped breathing,
And we feel we can breath again,
A simple thought that is deceiving,
We should’ve thought again.

The time has come to flee once more,
Before they break down our hideout’s door,
Grabbing more pieces as we leave,
Our door breaks, with our time to breath,
Trail of blood follows us cross-country,
As do police and gangs, all and sundry,
Doing what they want to catch the traitorous criminals,
Using excessive force and complicated syllables.

And when I look in the hostel’s mirror,
I see a friend of death staring back,
As I look longer, things become clearer,
And I see a stranger ready to attack.

Barricaded in our €70 a night room,
Outside enemies' shadows converge and loom,
Ezekiel’s words run through my mind,
Our path is truly beset by the unkind,
Officers and gangsters bang repeatedly,
Each bang hitting me and my mentality,
I understand our wrongs and seek repentance,
Our door comes down and I feel acceptance.

There’s a silence after the gunshots are fired,
We embraced our fate while lying down,
Now we’ve achieved what we most desired,
Now we fear waking to live this down.

(I was listening to a lot of Kasabian and this happened - note to self: never write while listening to Kasabian because you are not the genius that is Serge Pizzorno).