The Lions Day

I pressed my hands against my face and rock my body to and fro and let the rhythm flow where my imagination goes. The flies are crawling on the ceiling and the bugs are flirting with the alarm and the centipedes are crawling on the old dusty carpet underneath the cynical alter and the black bear is running around the town boring holes in the ground. The stone aged man with bronze Wrapped around the alter is a natural disaster His loud and thunderous voice Burst up the ceiling dripping stains on the floor Another dejavu has entered the town With burning passion in its bosom and the people are running around, without hope or ambition the lion has escaped from its den Looking for a place to lay its head It is chasing the people around the street Busting down doors and ripping up clothes in the stores And the money man with the till Held his corner and watch the lion massacre unfold People are jumping on tables and running out the doors but it corner a group of men And mutilate them in the store A man mount the steps and hit it several time with a desk and the lion leaped straight at him and cut his throat with a subtle grin. And just as he was about to take Another dive the store keeper Finished him with a barrage of bullets from his gun The lion day has come.