Last Woman Standing

He met her in an L.A. bar
And bought her bourbon served up neat
He told her that they could go far
And that the drinks would be his treat

They stumbled slowly to his room
And climbed on his disheveled bed
She experienced a sense of doom
And wondered if she'd end up dead

It might have been his blue tattoo
A skull captioned "Death Be Proud"
And she picked up a further clue
When he cranked up his music loud

He told her she would not be heard
Voice lost in rap and thickened walls
He said her efforts were absurd
And neighbors would not hear the squalls

But she produced a loaded gun
Held by a sure and steady hand
This seemed her idea of fun
And she might be last left to stand.