He Marches On Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

Focus now.
Focus now.
Where are we going.
So lost again.
Each idea sits one by one.
Which is right.
Which is wrong.
Especially with a head so gone.
Drained and dry.
Then again the source comes alive.
These' a cop and there's a bribe.
Shake hands when the dirty deal is done.
How can you do that?
Property still intact.
Torn up and converted.
An invisible object that has no meaning.
An broken agreement.
A pack with a devil.
And he marches on.