Dead Indian Poet

Chevy Murders
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Patrice took me on a drive on our first date
When she stopped on the hill, I smelt the hate.
I could tell that she didn’t have another mate
When a dirty red chevy drove in through the gate.

Black Leather Gloves,
Bright Yellow Flashlight.
Shining Silver Revolver,
And a Bang! Bang! Bang!

Patrice departed without packing her bag
Should I feel good, or should I feel bad?
The stained seat warned that she was dead
In spite of myself, I was infact going mad.

Choking Cloud of Dust,
Dull White Streetlight.
Loud Screeching Tyres
And a Bang! Bang! Bang!

Patrice left, but left me with the ill stress
A sheriff pulled over to investigate the case.
Hands in his pocket, and a message on his face
He handcuffed me and sighed, ‘What a mess!’.

Three Reminding Walls,
Ball And a Chain.
Big Bad Bullies,
And a Bang! Bang! Bang!