Land of the violent

Hanging with the homies, passing joints around the garage.                                    
Swapping stories we'd gathered from our jobs, schools and bars.                                      
A tight bunch, unwinding over food, brew and cards.                                      
Smoke from floor to ceiling, slowly forming moons and stars.                                      
This rainy night was just like any other so far,                                      
until we heard tires squealing as you pulled up in your car.                                      
No bottles dropped, but the game stopped as soon as you came inside.                                      
Your skin was white, your clothes ripped, your car hit                                        
the garage door as you had left it in drive.                                      
Your shaky hands clamped to beer, I'd never forget that look in your eyes.                                      
We told you we were here for you, we said to take your time.                                      
You uttered but a name,                                        
not long did it linger before we knew who to find.                                      
                                       
As everybody in the garage scrambled for weapons,                                      
I gave a look over to Steven, a look he expected.                                      
Blood brothers, we talked without speaking,                                      
an art form perfected.                                      
Though the boys were down to help us get even,                                        
we suspected we may be leaving a man without his breathing,                                      
so we slipped out the back and packed the rusty van up                                      
with bats and our demons.                                     
We needed the boys to see to it that our sister remained protected,                                      
and with that we were leaving, seething and undetected.                                      
                                       
There are times in your life that laws don't apply.                                      
Moments, that fear never even enters your mind,                                      
despite death being near, as you put your life on the line.                                      
Moments when pride, hate and vengeance trump                                      
morals that guide.                                      
When eyes become scopes, and men turn to lions.                                      
As prey loses hope, and accepts that it's dying.                                      
Pray as we stray blood soaked, into the land of the violent.                                      
These lines, running through my head, as my brother drove                                      
through the back field, wild and defiant.                                      
                                       
When we pulled up, I hopped out the back and passed my brother his bat.                                      
We kicked in his screen door and screamed as we smashed,                                      
pictures from the wall, I cracked the kid and he crashed                                        
into the television, he was flat on his back.                                      
We swung at him like maniacs, half our swings missing,                                      
always hitting something though, we broke his bones and his dishes.                                      
I used the end of my bat to smack his nose,                                        
my brother grabbed a knife and left holes that'd need stitches.                                      
We didn't kill him, though he was probably wishing.                                      
Then a shot was fired from the top of the stairs and we ran through the kitchen.                                      
Steven got shot in the thigh,                              
the man hit our headlight as well as our vans side, as we pulled out on a mission.                                      
                                       
My brother was in the back now              
as I swerved the van in a panic, seeming impaired.                                      
The man jumped in his Cadillac, the nerve we had to have                                      
to beat his "undeserving" son, while he was resting upstairs.                                      
He knew not who he defended, nor did he care. We were trespassers                                      
who smashed his house up, plus attacked it's only heir.                                      
Steven, keeping watch through the back, scared he was gaining,                                      
I told him to relax as I saw that our gas was rapidly draining.                                      
No guns, only bats, Steven in pain and complaining.                                      
Little did he know we'd never make it home, gas on low, there was no point in waiting.                                      
I pulled the E-brake as we we got back to the field                                        
and spun the van around as the man slowed down to diagnose, just what was my deal.                                      
                                       
I turned to Steven as he was bleeding and told him to hop out.                                      
I said we were out of gas and I planned to crash.                                      
He simply strapped in, like I had any doubts.                                      
We looked at each other once more, no need to let it out.                                      
We both knew how we felt before I put my foot to the floor                                  
and we flew forward yelling and shouting.                                      
The man's Cadillac's tires spun, as he threw it in drive.                                      
As we got close, his gun out the window was trying to put holes into mine.                                      
Steven and I both ducked as the gap quickly closed, while I drove blind.                                      
If I didn't look, there was no way to back out before we met nose to nose                                      
and saw eye to eye.                                      
                                       
We must have been going 40 before our head on collision.                                      
A dead stop, as our cars rear ends popped up                                        
and ringing ears met blurry vision.                                      
I lifted my head to see the man poking through his windshield,                                        
wrought with incisions.                                      
I saw Steven hobble by the passenger side, again on a mission.                                      
                                       
I was fading fast but caught a glimpse of him                                        
reach past the man to get at his gun.                                      
I closed my eyes and heard Steven laugh                                        
before a bang and a flash let me know it was done.                                      
He walked back and sat next to me as I                                      
caved to eternal rest in a rising sun.                                      
He ruffled my hair and laid his hand on my shoulder,                                        
an only son.                                      
                                       
There are times in your life that laws don't apply.                                      
Moments that fear never even enters your mind,                                      
despite death being near as you put your life on the line.                                      
Moments when pride, hate and vengeance trump                                      
morals that guide.                                      
When eyes become scopes, and men turn to lions.                                      
As prey loses hope, and accepts that it's dying.                                      
Pray as we stray blood soaked, into the land of the violent.                                      
                                       
My brothers died, defending a part of me.                                      
One in the crash, the other bled out through his femoral artery.                                      
We didn't know it at the time,                                        
we thought they'd scare the guy and come home safe.                                      
Some friends went back to playing cards, a few of them paced.                                      
Me, I sat wrapped in a blanket, washing down the nights awful taste.                                      
My brothers were no knights in shining armor, I was no princess in lace.                                      
Still, forever grateful, I prayed they'd both get home with some haste.                                      
I wanted this all over with, wishing that I could erase.                                      
                                       
We heard a bumper drag, casting sparks as it pulled up to the house.                                      
We all ran to the window to watch                                        
as you and Steven got out.                                      
Instead we saw a smashed white Cadillac,                                        
that pained us all with great doubt.                                      
                                       
A man crawled out the passenger side                                        
with a bullet in his shoulder and a gun in his hand.                                      
In the driver's seat, sat the boy who's name I gave.                                      
He stayed in the car, I wasn't sure he could stand.                                      
All of us ghost white, we scrambled and ran                                      
as this bloody man swung open the side door                                        
and opened fire into backs and raised hands.                                      
I hid under the table as each of my friends fell prey to the man.                                      
He tucked the gun under his navel as he did a quick scan,                                      
then he staggered away, closed the door and I grabbed                                      
the metal lid off a garbage can. Right then, that                                    
was the extent of my plan.                                      
                                       
I'm the reason they were here, the job wasn't done.                                      
If I hadn't squealed there'd be no blood, what had I done?                                      
I peeked through a crack in the garage door as he handed the gun to his son.                                        
I was right, he could barely stand, still he wanted to be the one.                                      
I escaped the night before, I almost spoiled his fun.                                        
In the shape he seemed to be in, I had no intentions to run.                                        
I'd crack his skull with the lid from where I hid, he was sure to be stunned.                                      
For my brothers, for my friends, I'd finish what this kid had begun.                                    
                                   
He walked in gun first and I popped out from the door.                                      
I swung with all my force and knocked his gun to the floor.                                        
I swung again at his chin, then at his ribs with the lid,                                
as 3 swings turned into 4.                                        
I hit him hard for my brothers, two men I adored.                                        
I swung until he laid still and still I wanted some more.                                      
I picked up the warm gun, stood above him and fired once,                                    
when it rains it pours.                    
He laid dead with my friends,                                    
you know what they say when you live by the sword.                                    
       
Then I wanted any knowledge of my brothers that his father had stored.                                      
I crept up to the passenger side of the Cadillac and                                      
yelled at him to open his door. I banged on the glass until it cracked                                        
and shattered, I wasn't phased by the gore.                                      
His face sliced, shirt red, but his pain remained ignored.                                      
I raised the gun to his head, I no longer cared what he said,            
my vision was red,                                     
I pulled the trigger and heard a click,            
he whispered a thanks to the lord.                                      
                       
Sirens blared from a few blocks over,                                    
still he was dead before they even caught a glimpse of the war.                                    
As my sanity was slowly restored,          
I closed his eyes for him and patted his shoulder.                         
He gave a faint smile knowing he'd no longer be sore.                      
Once he died I dropped the gun, walked inside and stood over the horde.                                    
where I collapsed amongst the carnage,                      
asking what for.                                      
                                       
There are times in your life that laws don't apply.                                      
Moments that fear never even enters your mind,                                      
despite death being near as you put your life on the line.                                      
Moments when pride, hate and vengeance trump                                      
morals that guide.                                      
When eyes become scopes, and men turn to lions.                                      
As prey loses hope, and accepts that it's dying.                                      
Pray as we stray blood soaked, into the land of the violent.