Urban Guerrilla

I'm fed up with these irritants, evil looks in they're eyes
They've got me feeling militant, they make my anger rise
Always move in silence, urban soldier in disguise
They figured 'cause I'm quiet, they'd ride me but hey surprise

I head into my base and I put on khakhis, fatigues
My boots laced up, then I stack up on my artilleries
My mental-state focused on the targets, comrades they're with
So when they feel the heat up under them, they cannot breath

I'm ready for the battle,I'm stacked up on ammunition
Alert and ready, never know when they'll make their decision
My aim on the target with experience and good precision
When they move I blow up, and bring about their demolition

The battle is thick , running for my life heading to safety
The opponent is breaking, and their movement's getting hasty
I'd rather be dead, not alive for them to take prisoner
I'd rather be a guerrilla than a captive, their dinner

The opponents are dark feelings like depression and pain
My ammunition are the thoughts that will help me maintain
My weapons are a pencil and a paper, lined or plain
The battlefield is where the fight takes place, inside my brain

Copyright © 2009 Anthony Phillips (DUNTEE)