The Blood Pressure of the Shot

I am staying down low this weekend. A calm has fallen after the storm of all nations. Sink holes and earthquakes have raged, but no tsunami. The sky is dusty. The earth is tender. I rest to see the truths in the best light. It is like a rapist's dream has come true, and I step stage left from that finale. I drop a black hat and pick up a pink robe. He says that he is sorry. I state that he must move the comets in the sky before I will believe. Running in the night, I see you all with a tender blue light with flames departing the top of your heads. It is time now to see the malady as reality and the time in the scene as wasted being nature. I am general and now sharpshooter nation can rest a sigh of relief because I have held the number one gun the whole time. War crimes are for minstrels and attorneys. Soldiers can now see sin properly and I feel light in the break of day. The watercolor of true professions has now washed out and now look brown. I am here and it is clear that his name is TONY.