the bullet comes from paradise

the bullet that bursts
straight through your organs
has chased you down
from around the world.

give us a song and we'll take it
and leave you standing there
wondering what we think.

the shooter that stalks you
was born a long time ago
and born again the moment
after you spoke.

We Leave Tonight by F. Scott Fitzgerald

We Leave Tonight by F. Scott Fitzgerald
from This Side of Paradise.

We leave to-night . . .
Silent, we filled the still, deserted street,
A column of dim gray,
And ghosts rose startled at the muffled beat
Along the moonless way;
The shadowy shipyards echoed to the feet
That turned from night and day.

And so we linger on the windless decks,
See on the spectre shore
Shades of a thousand days, poor gray-ribbed wrecks . . .
Oh, shall we then deplore
Those futile years!

See how the sea is white!
The clouds have broken and the heavens burn
To hollow highways, paved with graveled light
The churning of the waves about the stern
Rises to one voluminous nocturne,

. . . We leave to-night.