Militarily Made Up

With a nose tip strict is a big of a bird

The Ebony I wings whistled by you never heard

Dynamite projectiles crypt in my spot

I'm dodging like a robin in and out of raindrops

Suddenly I'm hit, my plan is coming down

Luckily I'm fit enough to guide it to the ground

Checking out the scenery of what could lay below

Taking out The Greenery I've got nowhere to go

Crashed, trapped, nevertheless unscratched, on my back desperately trying to release the hatch

The moment, it opens all I see is the sun and some chicos standing over me ready with their guns

I woke up with the image of my mind, binded to a palm tree with my hands behind it

But I find the strength to pull my hands from the ropes

Creeping on them sleeping I begin choak throats pulling weapons out their coats

Disappear like a ghost