A short poem/story on Old Bill (this person does not exsist) |
Walking the streets to see the prostitues roam all drugged up to the mouth theres foam Old Bill goes by in his ford cortina pulling up next to a girl in a short skirt only to find out her names katrina. He drives away with shame and disgust only to be followed by a man he cant trust he picks up speed and drives away what happend next makes it hard to say. The car behind pulls ahead the man inside pulls out a gun and shoots Old Bill in the head and goes on the run the car then crashes into a tree for the public to see that Old Bill is now dead from gun shot to the head. The man who pulled up in ford cortina who drove away from a prostitue called katrina crashed into a tree for the public to see and is now dead after gun shot to the head. Old Bill gets carried away in a body bag his arms flop out and start to sag the story of Old Bill will be told the newspapers will pick it up and the story will be sold. The man who shot Old Bill was never found even though the gun shot was extremly loud katrina never told a soul she never said she talked to the man in the ford cortina she said she was never around katrina said she never herd a bloody sound. With nobody to blame the worlds moves on the old sod who got shot in the head died in shame but the streets around here will still be the same and shots will still be fired with nobody in sight to blame. |