Z's got the Tommy, drum fat in the back of the Ford Fifty rounds ready, steady hands check the bolt and the cord "When I tap the horn twice" Chicago typewriter wrapped tight metal still feel cold each one of us got a drum with hundred rounds of .45 ball Meiku checks the breach, says could each could punch through a wall Tommy gun's oiled up, bolt sliding smooth as butter My old man used one in France, said they never jam I thumb the safety off, cough to clear the nerves away Z starts the engine, says "Remember - spray and pray" "Wait till they bunch up tight" Thompson weighs twenty pounds loaded up full Meiku passes me another drum never looked more beautiful First burst catches them clean, I mean right in front of Sal's Gun kicks like a mule, fuel smell mixing with the powder "MOVE, they're shooting back!" Glass exploding where my head just was Can't believe this thing shoots so fast Muzzle flash lights the dash, brass bouncing off the windshield .45 slugs punch through the lunch truck parked in Potter's Field Meiku screams "LEFT, LEFT NOW!" My ears are ringing like Sunday mass bells Three blocks from the bridge, ridge of smoke from under the hood Meiku knows some Greeks, speaks enough to get us good "Toss it in the river" My ears still ringing, can't hear nothing right Wonder if Ma's still up waiting for me Z knows a guy with a boat, coat still smells like cordite and wood "Ditch the iron at the docks" Tomorrow's Tribune gonna run this above the fold Hands still shaking bad, had to light my Lucky twice Nobody's talking now, We made them pay the price "Your sister still in Cicero?" Yeah, might be time to visit for a month or two
