God holding you in his fist
Where young men die
On the other side of anger
A fist to tight
The earth sucks blood up
It should have been
But it wasn't
Coin in the karma bank
A trip on your own
To the Devil's bank
White smoke between chalk lines
An account on the blame game
Distraction between exits
Being held in the palm
Hoping it is not to tight
Sounds a little crazy
Hope in a box
Buried six feet deep
concealed in obscurity
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