falling bombs

falling bombs look like shooting stars
passing in the night like speeding cars

and a siren wails like an frightened child
abandoned where all the garbage is piled

and the running boot with an anxious sound
without a soul just keeps dancing around

and the shadow in its' graveyard crying
the demon speaking but plainly lying

and on your head the weight of night
unmoving 'til the morning light

and the spinning cymbal smoking blurs
blinding what was his and hers

the open eye and the wizard gone
down an avenue at dawn

falling bombs look like flaming spears
scary in the night like childhood fears