i am the jack-o-lantern's dancing lightnnburning alone, setting fire to the bitennand i have heard them screamnni have heard them shout,nneverybody out!nnnneveryday behind a smoking gunnnfacing that rich fucker's only sonnnscreaming in the nightnnthe street lamps are brightnnlike happy, little stage lightsnnnnin the cold, dark corners of los angelesnni'm living off the sweet taste of the president's pissnndo you think i want to run?nnyou think i wish that i was done?nnbaby i'm just having fun.nnnnup above is a cloud of smokennthink, dark, and greynnthat isn't drifting awaynnand everybody knowsnnthere will be no fire hosenncause this time everything goesnnnnwe are dying slavesnnsinging love songsnnfor rich white knavesnnwe are the center piecennfor fucked up familiesnneating on christmas evennbefore the fathers leavennnnboy you better hold your tonguennyou do not want your familynnto know your dumbnnkeep track of allnnyour little precious liesnnwhispered in shopping mallsnnto keep the spirits highnnnnand the morning she is coming arooundnnmaking loud but beautiful soundsnnand your hands are bloody, broken, and bruisednnand yes, she sees you nnnna thousand liesnnwill noy keep my hand from the door nnso close your eyesnncause you dont need em anymorennnni've met kids like younnand i know exactly what you'll donnso dont give me that shitnncause i've had enough of itnnnni know i'm not a bad kidnni know what's coming for mennand i know what isn't happeningnnnnand i know that i've usednnthe time on my handsnnand the words on my mindnnfor some pretty terrible thingsnnnnlet me tell younnthat what you dont know will help younnso keep your eyes on the groundnnand don't fucking look aroundnnnnbecause they wont put you in a cemeterynnthey'll throw you in the rivernnplastic bags will carry not a wordnnnot a shivernnnnshe knows she knows she knows she knowsnnbut that won't keep the exhaust pipe from the hosennand everybody knowsnnso it goes so it goes so it goesnnnnthe world is easynnto understandnnfrom the backseat of a rental sedannnnnriding the comfortable, nnwarm wakennof your father's brief but beautiful breaknnnnthe powerful displaynncasts its shadow on the merritt parkwaynnnnthat wet cement is gonna dry up quicknnand those yellow broken lines, they're gonna make you sicknnnnso come with me now,nnto the hot blocknnwe will write our namesnnon the sidewalknnnnlook at you, liquidatornni'm your hired gunnnyou're my curatornnnnyour screams are high pitchednnand beautifulnnwhen taken out of contextnnnnthe purple sky outsidenngives off cold, dim lightnnas it covers the nightnnnnit reminds you of waking up, half-asleepnnand lazing in the car with your familynnnnpassing the oil wells up and downnndowntown, a ghost townnngliding over open groundnnnnto climb on a planennand be delivered some place far far awaynnnnso think about that little kid,nnbit your lip, and lower eyelidsnnnnthink about that little kidnnbecause it's all over now, you can't change what you didnnnnwe're all just a little emptynnbut still happynneach one of us a tiny aftershocknna chip off the block, a ticking clocknna friendly competitionnnwho can get the most fucked up.nnare our fists as tight as they will ever be?nnwe'll all have to wait and see.