Fat flying vermin, no Tommy Guns in sight,
eluding the stereotype.
They have muscled their way on to your balcony.
Using your house as a another dodgy front,
for breeding their own little family.
But don't be the fool.
If you move their kin,
it's the cardinal sin.
They will wait for you
Outside your door,
even if your above ground,
not making a sound,
to settle the score....
raining down white hell,
right onto your head.
Want to join the conversation? Sign in to leave a comment.