Juvenile delinquents
First rule is to attack,
find your ground and wield that bat,
chew your insulted sugar-free gum,
and blow the beginning of the battle.
Second rule is to run forwards,
hide your dirty hands in your back pockets,
Spit into the face of noise,
and kill the line of goody-goodies.
Whoever said they were a victim?
They got what they wanted,
a group of armed pink-dyed flowers
are still discriminated in crime.
Pulled on those scarlet stained boots,
Hid that razored hair in a capped hat.
Bunch of merry-go-round Tye-dye T-shirts,
Stomped on all those drooling Zebra's.
I watched the letters on your arm smear,
Shall I show you these cat claws?
I'll show you to laugh at something you think is a game,
You'll never believe in Heroes again.
"Give me a favor, please?'
What do you think I am, a pinch runner?
My bat has turned to sharp splinters,
infected and red, as they're stuck in my hands.
I lied, there are no rules,
that's the life of a rubber-duck
who floats in a bath of crimsoned grime,
I crunched that candy into bits of steel.
Don't walk around here,
I'll tie your eyes with my belt,
Don't you dare play with us,
We'll resonate that bucket over your head.
The silence of the whistle grounded,
your ears to the screaming radio.
Duck tape fixed that motionless android,
Who only spouted fuzzy nonsense.
Clock-worked bunny-plush,
We're only alive in black.
Wire wrapped around our necks,
And that's the Last Rule.
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