On another occasion, we got sent out
to tackle looters raiding a bank.
And one of them legs it up the road,
probably armed, possibly not.
so all three of us open fire.
Three of a kind all letting fly,
So we’ve hit this looter a dozen times
and he’s there on the ground, sort of inside out,
One of my mates goes by
and tosses his guts back into his body.
But I blink
and he bursts again through the doors of the bank.
Dream, and he’s torn apart by a dozen rounds.
And the drink and the drugs won’t flush him out –
near to the knuckle, here and now,
his bloody life in my bloody hands.