Hit Man

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  

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