[Vulgar]

Clear Conscience, Full Moon


By happenstance, a hapless hand of the mob moved weight
Nobody really knew the kind of money Mahmoud made...
He was destined to crash in the end, like a monsoon's fate

He'd sit up and watch cartoons late, reviewing his clientele
Cutting coke, puffing smoke, paying dues to the Higher Twelve
to get a spot on those ivory seats, reserved like a Kaiser's retreat
The cycle repeats when guilt calls
(He hears a wind turbine grinding while he's trying to sleep)
He'd ride in his company Jeep, transporting drugs instead of carpooling
No wife, no kids, just an alliance to a dark union
Chinese takeout boxes - you know how stakeout cops get
kill a man, earn a stripe, there's always breakout options
Lakehouse auctions - he bought a yacht & the people were glaring
Started poor, now a carnivore spending evenings in Paris
His loyalties lied with the Nostra... an inconceivable marriage
The league of the lair-less, no true home, trees or a terrace
and turning over any new leaf was an errand... torch it.
Life's course was bleaker than morbid. Indeed, it's apparent
Offshore banks safeguarded the most regal of karats
but at the end of the journey,
it's all worthless if the Ocean of Self between it is barren.

Was it too late for reflection? Healing? Unleash the baited tongue
An old man now, his day would come, Corrupt Civilization's Hated Son
Fame and guns became baseless, since being alive was simply a miracle
Solitude was his gin and juice, he'd drink it at intervals
From his bank account he relinquished miniscule... if anything at all.

They say bad karma has a way
of tracking old customers out of the crevices
so when assessing risks
keep in mind roulette exists

In the twilit dockyard, the fog caressed at his face
His chauffeur offered him a ride back to his mansion,
A mansion with view to die for, a deck on the bay
He replied, "No thanks, I think I'll walk the rest of the way."