terror, assault, anthrax

They held the gun up to his head
he had to paint
was not afraid

they held the knife up on his fillet
he had to sing
to love 
to dream

but could not sleep
not think
not give
there was a hurt
a thing that screamed....
cause they reflexed his mind all day and night
in awful way


they were so silent
with a smile
they gave him snaps
and hoped he dies

the gun was often up his head
he couldnt feel it anymore
he screamed while dreaming in his bed
and hoped that he had closed the door

the Friend, he took the knife again
and said ok, you will feel pain

the neighbour sayed i take the truck
and roll about your daughters neck

they talked about killing his son
and in a wheek the painter's gone
sorry...