You are born into a family, into a skin, into a life that you didn't
choose. You grow up, you learn how to walk, to run, to jump and skip,
multiply, and soon you learn how to drive. Standard cars with torn out
engines and wheels as wide as your younger sister. You grow up to be a bad
ass, robbing the country for supplies you need to win the next street race.
You have a woman, but not a love, not a real one.
You start to mingle with people, they too sharing the same thrill you posses, and you look out for each other. Just like the Mafia. You are a mafia, The Mafia of supped up Civics and Eclipses, in all colors. You don't take shit from anyone, because if you did, you would be a mama's boy. It's not easy being a role model for street racing punks; it's not easy at all. They make movies and write books about your life, but they have never lived it. In most cases, they've never run out of food, or parenting. They've never run out of trust for others, or bullets for when you need to protect the ones you trust.
Mafia of the Streets.
You take care of those who can't take care of themselves. Vince, Jesse, Letty, all those others who depend on you. Your little sister... beautiful and sly... she watches out for you even though you don't see her, she sees you. And she knows. She always fucking knows. You love her because she bandaged you up when you fell, cleaned you off, kissed your bruises. She was your mother, but she needed you as well, and you aren't always there.
She knows you're the Civic King, the Master of the Road, and Ruler of the Streets. You're her big brother, the sparkle in her eye...nothing could come between you two. Except for another man. Yes, he's the rogue lion scratching up your tree. You're the King of this cement jungle, but he doesn't see it – He won't see it. You start your engine, and you let out a purr at first...he returns it. A challenge, but first you roar your engine, letting him know your kid sister his out of his grip.
Yet he takes your challenge without any fear...and in the end...he wins the race...and the trophy. She smiles at him and sleeps curled next to his warm body. You hear her call out his name, even over the catatonic howl of your own, you hear her still...
Brian! Brian! BRIAN!
You hate him. With every bone in your body, with every muscle in that large frame of yours, you despise him. Your hate is balled up into a fist of erotic pleasure as you release all the madness he embarked on your tribe, all the hate, and the pain, even the jealousy. You are jealous of him. Insanely jealous...not because of the intimacy they two share... but because you feel she doesn't need you anymore. That the sparkle in her eye isn't for you anymore...
You know your right...
You're a bad ass...bad Asses are always right, and if they're not... you kill things.
The woman you call your lover, trembles underneath your body...you think these things in your head and all the sudden, your body reacts and you start to squeeze. You don't realize it just yet...and neither does she...you play like this often, your strong hands around her neck. But this time, this time you weren't playing. Your hands crushed her neck slowly at first...yet fast enough for her not to make a sound.
So you see, you didn't know until it was too late. You didn't realize you had killed her until she stopped moving...and you snapped back into consciousness. What you did stopped something deep inside you...something called emotion...Letty didn't know you had snapped...Letty didn't know...But she did...
Even if you don't see her, she sees you.
Bad Ass...
King of the cement Jungle...
Mamas Boy.
You start to mingle with people, they too sharing the same thrill you posses, and you look out for each other. Just like the Mafia. You are a mafia, The Mafia of supped up Civics and Eclipses, in all colors. You don't take shit from anyone, because if you did, you would be a mama's boy. It's not easy being a role model for street racing punks; it's not easy at all. They make movies and write books about your life, but they have never lived it. In most cases, they've never run out of food, or parenting. They've never run out of trust for others, or bullets for when you need to protect the ones you trust.
Mafia of the Streets.
You take care of those who can't take care of themselves. Vince, Jesse, Letty, all those others who depend on you. Your little sister... beautiful and sly... she watches out for you even though you don't see her, she sees you. And she knows. She always fucking knows. You love her because she bandaged you up when you fell, cleaned you off, kissed your bruises. She was your mother, but she needed you as well, and you aren't always there.
She knows you're the Civic King, the Master of the Road, and Ruler of the Streets. You're her big brother, the sparkle in her eye...nothing could come between you two. Except for another man. Yes, he's the rogue lion scratching up your tree. You're the King of this cement jungle, but he doesn't see it – He won't see it. You start your engine, and you let out a purr at first...he returns it. A challenge, but first you roar your engine, letting him know your kid sister his out of his grip.
Yet he takes your challenge without any fear...and in the end...he wins the race...and the trophy. She smiles at him and sleeps curled next to his warm body. You hear her call out his name, even over the catatonic howl of your own, you hear her still...
Brian! Brian! BRIAN!
You hate him. With every bone in your body, with every muscle in that large frame of yours, you despise him. Your hate is balled up into a fist of erotic pleasure as you release all the madness he embarked on your tribe, all the hate, and the pain, even the jealousy. You are jealous of him. Insanely jealous...not because of the intimacy they two share... but because you feel she doesn't need you anymore. That the sparkle in her eye isn't for you anymore...
You know your right...
You're a bad ass...bad Asses are always right, and if they're not... you kill things.
The woman you call your lover, trembles underneath your body...you think these things in your head and all the sudden, your body reacts and you start to squeeze. You don't realize it just yet...and neither does she...you play like this often, your strong hands around her neck. But this time, this time you weren't playing. Your hands crushed her neck slowly at first...yet fast enough for her not to make a sound.
So you see, you didn't know until it was too late. You didn't realize you had killed her until she stopped moving...and you snapped back into consciousness. What you did stopped something deep inside you...something called emotion...Letty didn't know you had snapped...Letty didn't know...But she did...
Even if you don't see her, she sees you.
Bad Ass...
King of the cement Jungle...
Mamas Boy.