Son Of A Gun - Poem by Aram Stefanian
Another night on the town, and you're stone blind
The grapes of wrath induce you to smell blood
Running into a trashed punker, you are spoiling for a fight
He punches you out, saying, ''Blame it on the night! ''
You take a roscoe out of your pocket and shout to him,
''I'm gonna awake you, son of a gun, from your pipe dream''
An old lady lets out a yell, ''He's got a gun! Somebody call 911''
You shoot and miss the guy, you're really far gone
The men in black pull over, telling you to dropp the weapon
A tenage girl hollers, ''On my evidence you can reckon''
You dropp your gun, and before the cops put the nippers
You say, ''I'll hold a grudge against you, fucking city slickers''
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