Tired.
But can't sleep.
Tried.
The CIRCLE OF LIFE.
Gravity.
What goes 'round comes 'round;
it goes up; comes down.
50 soldiers patrol the grounds.
Always at the watch, are 4 of the deadliest killers in town.
4 women unmatched, against any army of man.
Yet no sleep comes for this ONE.
Thought I'd left this shit behind.
But hands ever tied.
I had a good time.
Traveled the world in style.
North America, South America,
Asia, Europe, Africa.
Wherever I went, women moistened at my presence;
men made to feel smaller by it.
I opened my mouth & they all melted;
they all felt it.
All wanted, to come closer.
"To get to know ya."
Wasn't my intent.
All I ever wanted was retirement.
To leave the past behind & live in peace in every future moment.
"No rest for the wicked."
Who said it?
Did they mean it?
I feel it.
50 soldiers;
4, the deadliest.
Yet, so restless.
I sit in the dark;
listening to Mozart—Lacrimosa.
At my head, the Revolver.
Russian Roulette; one in the chamber.
4 clicks.
5 and it's over!
I hear her voice:
"Babe, where are you?"
"Down here.
Did I wake you?"
From behind, she embraces;
kisses.
She sees the gun—
"Are you done?"
Yeah.
"Then come to bed."
She knows me so well.
She didn't even panic.
She knows whenever I have a job to do,
no matter how difficult, I do it.
She knows many are looking to me to see them through it.
And she knows I know it.
The revolver is my day dream.
Mozart, it seems to me he's speaking.
Every note, I can feel it—
🎶 Restless nights.
No sleep.
They'll take,
every piece of me.
And only when it's over,
I'll get my rest;
& lay my head among the best;
all the great ones who came before me;
and left for me their legacies.
No rest,
for wicked;
no rest,
for me. 🎶
Up the steps I go;
her voice calls out to me.
We have so much love to make up for;
so much lost history.
She lies in bed, nakedly.
Arms outstretched, calling out to me.
On top,
her legs open & she welcomes me.
Our members collide.
Warmly.
Our outer skins slide,
ready to accept the pleasurable ride.
Mine penetrates.
Hers opens.
"Deeper."
She screams.
Her nails pierce me.
She bites;
my neck, bloody.
I feel it;
she grows wet for me.
The instruments sing.
The notes ring.
There it is.
Can always tell it's cumming.
A series of contractions & expansions.
Then suddenly, a loud scream, followed by an explosion.
I pull out.
It drips.
The music dies.
A final kiss.
Eyes gaze into eyes.
She's pleased.
"Yes."
We fall to sleep.
Though only a moment for me.
Mozart repeats.
"No rest, for the wicked.
No rest, for me."
Lacrimosa keeps me company.
