Next In Line

born on the southside, you live alone
four walls and a roof but’s always cold
look out the window and there is nothing to see but, a riot torn city and the
death of your country and
your chilled to the bone with no possessions to call your own yet you control
your rage and you resist the crime because your the next in line
Out the back door and to corner store
all you want is a drink and nothing more
sit on the stoop and let the liquor soothe your pride before you go inside
you in cut in front and now your the next in line
you never thought you’d lead a life of crime
freedom’s the only thing you need but the truth is something few understand and
an unwelcome reality now it’s dark and black and sad and gone you express and
repress the thing gone wrong and you want to be the man who ran away and you
wish you could back to yesterday
now he’s in her room and he’s about to lie so you pull the gun and squeeze the
trigger and let the bullets fly…