Sitting in a smoke filled room
Waiting for either luck or doom
Spin the barrel pull the trigger on the gun
Playing Russian roulette is so much fun
As I pass the gun to my boy I give him a kiss
For good luck so he’ll get a miss
He pulls the trigger with the gun to his head
The next thing I know his dead
I wanna blow my head off too
But this game he’d want me to follow through
The gun gets passed round and round
More bodies hit the ground
But I could care less cause death is what I seek
Finally the chamber releases a bullet and as it lodges in my head a final tear runs down my cheek
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem