[asylum]

"Hey bro, you couldn't jack nothing more low key?"
Gold rims glow in the gas station lights, tank filling slowly.
They wore antique German helmets and gas masks from the cold war,
Relics of the past that never saw a foreign shore,
Destined for their chance for gore and pain just up the way,
Where a fortress born from ill gotten gains chills on a hill atop a plain,
Filled with thugs waiting for anyone plottin' to claim their blocks of cane.
It sits on the spot the same as it was before they moved in, never thought to change,
Their locks or ways, even the main players couldn't stop the game.
The boss would say, "dont worry 'bout the cops they're paid. IF you're stopped just say,
How's your family, and drop their names." All the drops were made.
That's when Jake stepped up the game and stalked their prey,
Found the house where stock would stay and watched for days,
Took a leave of absence, didn't want to raid. Found a spot and dug some graves,
The thugs exchanged product for cash at regular intervals,
They'd get the cash and the next drop while they stopped some ventricles.
The plot was sensible. Someone flipped a breaker at the dispatch center,
While they popped the wagons back hatch and prepared to enter,
The hood smashed through iron gates, it's bumper devoid of license plates,
Flood lights flicked on and illuminated even the tightest space from a higher place,
From behind it a man yelled, "just lea..." as the whole scene glowed pink from the brightest spray,
A bullet flew in from far away, the spotlight popped and sizzled,
Night visions optics dropped and bullets whistled over their heads,
Leapfrogging from statues to fountains, to an unlocked door they dropped and went,
Up twin staircases in their places, skull bandanas covering their faces.
They reached the top and heard someone screaming theyd shot at first,
And a rocket smashed into points chest.. he dropped and cursed,
They swarmed and got away from the dead round as fast as they could,
Threw a canister of tear gas over a banister, moving up to the third floor where they heard more,
Footsteps and harsh whispers.. darkness moved into their hearts center,
They bawled and begged for mercy, "MY LEGS ARENT WORKING.."
As they crawled and bled from jerking limbs, the cops were smirking when,
They tied each one to a chair and sliced with razor blades,
Stuffed pieces of flesh in their mouths before the major shave.
As each fades away, another leaves while repeating the names said to each,
The heart of a beast's the darkest retreat. Dont bark at a tree.