Rites of the Sentinel
27 miles to the Mexico border
Flat tire and a dead battery
desert court's in session must we come to order?
No Salvation here in this dead sea.
The vultures swirl above in restless delight
The cactus fruits a dangle violently
The Water's wicked and it feels just fine
Like a plate of nothingness and glass of wine.
The Turrets turn about and hastily made
2000 dead upon the ground.
The lights that flicker up above my head
Theres more still standing so I get up again.
I'm a righteous criminal
vigilante refugee
Through the rites of the sentinel, killings my specialty.
