Gun sounds, bang!
Camera flashes flashes.
It's the don't-look-over-your-shoulder,
bolt-up-the-stairs,
can't seem to shake the feeling that something's still watching you.
The gun sounds loud, bang bang bang!
You run, but you run from
not to.
No predetermined destination
overrun your estimation
lines are turning blurry grey
Bang, BANG DEAD,
concrete, lay.
Your head ...
your head hur...hurts. Your head is
hurting and
oh wait.
What just flashed?
Who was that?
Some bloody fuck brought his sodding little camera.
Flash, flash flash flash.
FLASHFLASHFLASH!
You cough.
They said they'd be ready. Be waiting.
Now they're on my heals and I gotta keep going otherwise...-oh, don't look back.
It's like heights. If I don't look down, I won't scare myself into falling. If I just don't look down...
but it's so high up and I'm curious.
With a simple analogy on life, I flee the crime scene, as always.
But I'm in no danger just yet. Wait 'til I run out of breath
to worry.
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