Somewhere in an empty part of town

Surrounded by enemies

He puts his hands up and

Tells himself what he's dying for.

And the guns seem muted

He hears nothing.

Sends a blessing to a friend,

And crumples to the dirty ground.

Where they will leave him 'till tomorrow.

Until they remember and know.

And he knows what he died for,

But he still misses it.

How can something so horrible be so

beautiful?

And he is just a distraction,

Nothing less, nothing more.

Red blood spills over.

'This is new, this is mine, this is a reason.'

He thinks, and feels the frozen movement

And pausing.

This is new, this is used, this is exciting.'

The gun slips from his grip and he knows

He's alone, but he thinks he can hear

The purr of the motorbike,

Knowledge his friend has come back.

But nothing happens, and it is quiet as he thinks,

'This is new, this is used, this is death.'

Somewhere in an empty part of town

Surrounded by enemies

He puts his hands up and

Tells himself what he's dying for.