quarta-feira, setembro 07, 2005

....I woke up and found myself lying on the street floor with a 357 in my left hand
and a corpses neck on the other,
i didn´t remember a thing...
blue sky gray-scale,
graveyard amnesia..
not even my name....

clues, just like Dick tracy´s openned eyes i see NecroDrome written in the revolver´s chamber,
livin´hell i found myself.. gang style clothing, clean brown shoes
and the silver metallic "Bonnie" in my cold steel fingers: all a match, a gangster...

the other "good guy" beside me, meet john doe
a nobody´s dead man that i didn´t like for sure,
for the blood i my hand, and gun powder in the other...

Well home i knew where, no doubt, Chicago´s Cicero street,
Barafranca´s sweet summer house... Hellhole....
I was on my way to kill, to steal, to destroy to anihilate,
to form a crime syndicate....

Until the last spring swings away,
until the last gangster hits the ground runnin´.

NecroDrome 7th August, 1935