Deep in the bowels of the Lyric, Nitrates hide away
Out of sight they hope they might escape another day.
Hide out in the Panic Room, equipped with a film projector
Escape to sunny paradise. Idle idyll conjecture.
Casablanca playing now, a classic soon replaced
Midnite Mirror drawing nearer, Tracy’s foes disgraced.
Up high upon the silver screen see Shaky, Pruneface, Shoulders
Criminals of some renown, yet a corpse so soon it molders
When one has learned crime does not pay and met a violent end
Gunplay with Tracy goes so wrong with wounds that shall not mend.
So pop some corn and grab a seat. Take in a double feature
Down on the Range things may get strange. Nitrate is one bad creature.