Skies are blue.
Between the trees you´ve organised your party.
Happiness has descended and now it´s covering you.
All the people at your wedding were women some of whom are still in love with you.
You little rebel you raise you rifle true.
Up on the tank like Gaddafi´s lynchmob.
Ammunition and the sky is blue.
Up on the tank declaring your love.
For the bride beside and her uncanny beauty.
A crossfire of emotions like an ambush shooting.
In your heart there´s just a teaspoon of horror.
You should have got married alone with the mirror.
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