Mortality, Immortalized

Well Skrew and Avoid screeched to a stop last night
   to find themselves caught up in the heat
It took a firefight to break back into the cool
   but then man, South Street echoed with receding feet

And by the time the blood hit the storm drain
   the usual chill was back in the air
And I couldn't help but wonder, baby
   what we were really spared


And Prozak caught Sleaz one on the jaw—
   or through it to be precise
Not to be outdone, Sleaz put one in his gut
   to remind him that no one around here plays nice

But I had to stop and think, pretty lady
   about what happened to Aleas on Girard
And whether it was worth the screaming sirens
   wailing down the Boulevard


Jezus and the Begr flew loose down to Fairhill
   to see what colors were hanging from the grenade pin
Well, Cokey and Cage decided they were wearing
   the wrong colors on their shirts and their skin

And by the time I got there, doll
   to feel which way the wind was blowing underground
It was whistling through twenty-one holes in their chests
   Christ, you'd think by now I'd be used to that sound


I heard Fword ask Cense if he'd been to Market that day
   to see who could tell him what dying was like
But by the end of the night they were too loose to care
   when they found the answer in a chopper strike

And so they shed their brakes as excess weight
   holding them from the sky
And grab their lives by graffiti handles
   to outlive their graves when their luck runs dry