Hot Shells (Reload)

She would take a double barrel shot gun to my chest and blow a hole ; And I would die a slow death from hot shells of her violent love

Each time resuscitating me with the kiss of life, she would relentlessly reload ; I became her target practice
Now addicted to the burn

Futility filled attempts, to set myself free
But she would prove herself inescapable

In her pump action I had met my maker

Her aim of choice weapon ; Always impeccable

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