Winter, winter,
bitter cold,
breath upon the air,
heading inside,
heading inside to the cafe,
to wait for the one,
the one with the briefcase and a gun,
the one who is all glowers and frowns,
and seriousness,
and heavy set with a heavy mood,
that hangs like a cloud above his head,
waiting for him,
waiting for a killing to be made,
waiting to decide who should be killed today,
waiting dressed in a smart coat and hat,
with an expensive watch and looking very debonair,
waiting for the hitman,
waiting to give the orders,
waiting to kill someone,
waiting whilst holding a coffee,
waiting with murderous thoughts,
waiting to execute the plan,
and waiting for the man,
the man who puts bullets in heads,
and who does not even care.