a scramble in the middle of the moral battle
a fall to the dirt in an epileptic fit
ravaged brain soaked in whiskey and stale beer
boot stomped they say
broken neck attached to twisted skin
his blood son will inherit the ankle chains
newstand release for a dollar on sundays
a celebrity for a moment as the dirt pours
and the cat pisses on the bold print
just another one of us
with that last gasp of air
into the universe that will never remember our name
blood stains his son's hands
but it was the no name that killed him
long before the whiskey and stale beer
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