I will never be a hit man for a mob family or the Cali Cartel.
I will never say good bye using a gun to say farewell.
I may slick down my hair, like a wop I use the gel.
But my enemy will never fear from me the sound of the final bell.
I am Frankie Knuckles, “The Man” but not the one you should fear.
I have not yet drawn blood or caused an eye to tear.
But my time might come when I am called upon to hit.
With a piano wire I find the throat of my victim to cause a fit.
As he lies at my feet dead I will know that I have done wrong.
The family he left behind will forever mourn and long.
Now I am sorrowful, because I cannot take it back.
The tall tale heart will haunt me as if beating from under the floorboards of my shack.
I am sure nobody saw as I brutally slayed a man
My paranoia will play with my head until it lands me life in the can.
Frank Michael Scavullo