Neal lined them up
James, Dean, Patrick, Rob
Laid his hands on one another
Took a deep breath and shot

Their skulls cracked open
Their blood shed the rocks
It took three days of rain
For mud to turn to sense

I was a mere sibling
Maybe two or three or four
I watched with eyes wide open
Behind a fence of waving stones

I’m in my thirties now
A tall young man alright
I set myself ablaze
My hands of power will suffice

I blast the door open
A kick and punch alone
I said old man Neal on your feet
He said ’twas about time

I walked him to an open field
I’d blast his brains all over
I told him he was beautiful
He said I was too kind.


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