I find
another body at my feet
And, damn
it, it’s my bullet in his head.
Now that
this place is lousy with the heat
I’ve come
to wish this mug was not so dead.
This stiff
will soon begin to decompose,
Festering
quite rankly in my trunk,
And any cop
who’s got a working nose
Will come
to see what’s making such a funk.
Should he
sleep with the fishes? Ah, no
dice;
That’s where the flatfoots always check at first.
Maybe
I should think before I ice;
This
predicament has got to
be the worst.
That’s it!
I’m giving up! I’ve had enough!
Compared to
this, the big house ain’t so tough.
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