The Kill

Walking in, the smell of smoke floods your nose as your eyes adjust to the darkness
Your eyes are fixed on the green as if were a goddess
A grip of the stick with either left or right
A concentrate to the colors as they take flight
The heart starts to beat strong as your breathing gets shallow
The voices are muffled when the sound breaks, it’s the sight of an arrow
This head on shot or angle shot both two extremes
45 degree expression strikes as it heads downstream
Solid and stripes an invitation they gather
A rhythmic flow will keep them together
As the shot is taken it's all too clear
Your stare gets narrow as the colors disappear
Put your spin on white while hugging the rail
This cue stick sends them on a breeze like running for the holy Grail
One by one as the colors roll into the pockets
the guy next to you still waits for his turn to Test the rocket
He won't stand a chance he's wasting his time
each time the color hits it's the ending of this rhyme
The colors are gone just the dark One is left
It's lined up, a clear and sailing shot for the skillful deft
As the money sits and awaits for defeat, it won't move a muscle
A smile to a grin, oh the stupidity of them, you've won the hustle