Stolen
I’ve grabbed the paintings and busts
and now I’m running, falling, now cuts.
They follow behind at a steady pace
but I move swiftly, turn, it’s a race.
Turn to the left and miss on the right
slammed from behind and now real tight.
Kick open the door and leave the goods
cause now I’m running from the hoods.
Dead end, oh no now it seems all over
but wait, where are…what the fodder?
I escaped to this dingy hole of a house
I stay here for days and my win is a loss.
