Chasing the Vig - Street Sects

Three AM and they’re at your door

Your chest feels like it’s collapsing

Coked out in your uniform

One hand on your service weapon

They will kill you for what you owe

So show them what you’re made of

You taste death

Love and rejection

Take a breath

High off the action

Everyone fucks it up

It’s all distraction

Someone else cleans it up

It’s all redacted now

Back on the job there’s something not quite intact

Your sources aren’t even flexing

The dope is all second hand

You wonder who they’re protecting

There’s a file with your name attached

Is that what you’re afraid of?

You taste death

Lies and corruption

Take what’s left

It’s better than nothing

Everyone gets a cut

It’s off the record

Maybe you’ve had enough

Collect your pension

Twenty four hundred miles

No extradition

Liquid and versatile

Beyond conviction now