With your back against that wall
He looms shadowing . . . menacing
Screaming but you don’t hear nothin’
The fists fly in skyward
The flesh gives way slowly
The blood . . . drips . . . down
Your . . . face

Centreville looms in the backdrop
Chantilly laces her cleats down the road
And you’d give anything to be
Anywhere else right now
In more ways than one
Sets the summer sun

And you walk a little
Slower into sixth-period
Teacher asks, “What’s wrong?”
The rage . . . pumps . . . through
Your . . . veins

With your back against that wall
He looms shadowing . . . menacing
Hurting but you don’t feel nothin’
So fall in slow-motion
Entertaining the notion
No . . . no, you’re not the one who
Beat you down to the floor

So fall in slow-motion
Entertaining the notion
And the bastard can’t die if he’s
Not really alive ~