A barrel of a bad guy
some lieutenant of a cartel or crooked cop
holding a submachine gun
an excuse to piss himself laughing
A character faces a gruesome death
He was the quintessential villian
The concerned look position questioning
Suddenly nonchalant and unconvinced yes that kind of bird
the back of his mind a million files
reading back into his eyes
showing a few of those nice tricks that take the masses in
he'd seen before effort keep the smirk from appearing
Gene the serious giving the precise instructions
making sure you knew it was your life you were forfeiting
It's a shot gun blast in an instants decision
lifting the arms and blowing the body back
a moustasche through those funky decades
the hippy turned to scotch
enemy of the state
mastermind of humanity's end
what will we do? who do we go to?
without you.
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