Here’s a taste of Balls Capone’s new song, “No Regerts,” (and yes that incorrect spelling is the correct spelling) performed at Piper Down last Friday! Full song coming soon!
A lonely hit man sits smoking on his hotel balcony overlooking the city. He can hear a band playing somewhere lost deep within the city streets and watches the smoke from his cigarette reflect in the fading light of the sun as it vanishes behind the hill. He's have a lot of second thoughts these days, not a good thing for this line of work. His ever growing conscience is starting to cause him problems and he's getting sloppy. He nearly misses his call to action as he spaces out on the hotel balcony. He's here to work, not to play, and finally gets up to get his job done. He grabs his coat and silver .45 and heads down the fancy marble hotel stairs to find his victim. There he is, the target, sitting at a table on the covered patio of a fancy Italian restaurant. The time is now. He doesn't even notice the crystal substance quickly poured into his sparkling wine as the hitman passes. It instantly dissolves in the liquid and just like that, our job is done. Soon the victim is coughing, grasping at his chest in panicked agony. The coughing turns into vomiting and he goes down face first onto the colorful tile floor of the patio in a pool of his own vomit. His body convulses momentarily before becoming still forever. Usually, our hit man would have been out as soon as the drop was made, but this time he decided to sit and watch the results of his actions. The ambulance wales through the night as the lights flash across the windows of the building. They rush to the victims aid, but there is nothing to be done, he's long gone. The familiar sound of police sirens join in the emergency symphony and that is the cue for our hit man. He drops a few bucks on his little table next to his half drank Negroni and heads out the back of the patio. He knows sticking around after a hit is a very foolish move and he wonders why he even just did that? He actually feels bad now. Who even was this man that was killed? Was he truly deserving of such a death? Our hitman decides to drop into the hotel lounge for a drink when he is identified by a random goon from a rival faction. The man attacks on the marble stairs, pulling a long thin silver blade and swinging it wildly, but he fails to see the silver .45 now firmly in the hands of our character. Now the attacker stumbles back from the quick rapid succession of suppressed gun fire. He falls against and slides down the wall, leaving long red blood trails as he slides. He gurgles his final breaths and succumbs. Annoyed at having to take yet another life, our hitman simply goes back to his room and to bed. his dreams are filled with being somewhere else, where none of this life no longer exists, he just wishes he could really be here. His cottage in the woods. No one around for miles. but things quickly take a darker turn as he begins to see the faces of his victims carved into the trees in his happy woods. He begins to panic, he knows he must make amends, he can't do it anymore. It is over. He wakes from his dreams with a gasp. Now unable to sleep he decides to head back down to the lounge for another drink. At the bar he notices a beautiful classy blond in a white diamond dress. He introduces himself and they seem to hit it off, finally, a real connection. Soon we are headed up the marble stairs to my room. Excited, our hitman doesn't even bother to hid the guns or his items. He quickly removes his jacket as the woman slides the straps from her sparkling white dress, she walks towards him as the dress slips down her smooth body exposing her perky bosoms. His eyes locked on her perfect breasts, he doesn't see the snub nose pistol she pulls from behind her and the sound of gunfire fills the air. Blood sprays from the perfect heart shot and splatters a long arterial spray across her breasts. "Oh well, probably for the best", is the last thoughts our hitman thinks along with the smell of perfume and gunpowder.
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