The Duke is dead, black blood spit on the floor in Colorado
God will not follow him down
There is no hellhound on my trail
chased me for miles
turned around and got tired
no yellow eyes staring back at mine
The shark tank my captors threw me in
stray bullets kissed my chin then
ripped me limb from limb
the mansions I’ve lived in go up like matchsticks
the mansions I’ve lived in go up like matchsticks.
for HST