3 Cheers For Sweet Revenge

It happened in the middle of a gunfight, in the center of a resteraunt.
The police came, shouting over loudspeakers, "Come with your arms raised high!"
Well they're never gonna get me, not while I'm still locked and loaded.

Like a bullet through a flock of doves, I rose to my feet. The dead all around me.
Ironically, for once, none of the bodies were of my doing. I was merely trying to have lunch in peace at Gary's Diner on Baldwin Street when some men dressed in street clothes burst in, all guns a blazing.

They started this war, bringing it to me!
On my mother's eyes, I said a prayer...

SHIPLEY PRISON

My cell was small, too small for two grown men. Rage was his name. A large built man who was a skinhead in his day. Heavy tattoos were his moniker, and all that he had to say was racial propaganda. He annoyed me, but I was smart about it and kept it to myself.

I couldn't join a gang because I was too quiet and independent for such a thing. Also gang rapes weren't my scene. Most of the time, everyone kept to themselves, the showers at first were the place of nightmares. As long as you kept your eyes to the front and didn't stare anyone, they normally kept you alone. I've even once had a convict ask me to wash his back for him.

But it's when you sleep that they get you.
The prison guards don't care, they turn away as these men, just men as God made us..well I can't go into too much right now.
It was just pain in my heart and in my body, as I fulfilled their dying wish of sexual gratification against my flesh.

Whether it's cheating at cards, or losing the checkers for the tenth time, or making some poor guy do push ups in drag, life in the joint was always one about any second deaths.
But nobody cares if you're losing yourself because I WAS LOSING MYSELF..

"Oh, I miss my mom!"
"Will they give me the chair?!"
"Or lethal injection, or swing from a rope if you dare!"
Those words being screamed from death row, only a few thin walls away from us in our cell. It'd even creep out Rage, who was always shadow boxing in the mirror during lights out.

Ah, nobody knows.. all the trouble I've seen, heard, and felt.

What they ask of you, will make you want to say..."How long..? How much more of this?!"
A punch and beating silences you, what is the point of fighting back when they have their way with you? The less you struggle, the sooner it is over. Then you can curl into your bleeding rape fetal position and hope that your first pair of stitches didn't tear again.
Your bloody bowel movement is a constant reminder.

Life is but a dream for the dead, for we are all dead in here and don't know it.

The Gary's Diner incident landed me 3 years hard time for manslaughter, murder in the second degree. They matched two of my bullets to one dead victim, one of the assholes who tried to kill me in the first place.

I had gotten to my feet, and after seeing just how much fuzz was there to take me in..I had no choice but to drop my heat. I would have gone done in a glorious "Butch Cassidy and Sundance Kid" gun battle, but Helena kept me from it.

I'd rather be put in prison for a couple years, than to be dead and out of her life.

They tried and charged me in record time.
I don't know who gave away my location, my identity to the would be killers and police.
But I have a good idea.

Revenge will be sweet.

And when I finish my time in here..

They'll wish their daddy had pulled out early.