The St. Valentine's Day Massacre

The brown gloves won’t stop coming My temples take the punches he’s flinging I clutch with my right arm the side of the ring My head’s a volcano, the blood is erupting I can’t even hear the whole crowd exploding Just a steady crescendo of my eardrums ringing And maybe the sound of my skull cracking But I can still hear the songs that she sings

I am not down, I am not done I will keep standing ‘cause he has not won I stare into his eyes as he preps his next punch Blue eyes like gemstones under a tropical sun Another hard punch, my head has been flung But when I look back up I see my own face Massacring myself because I fell from old grace The sweat rolls down, my old memories But lost battles are all I see I see in his face the one man I never beat And as my own eyes stare back into me I begin to realize that I am no Job.