The Next in Line

Born on the southside you live alone
Four walls a roof and it’s always cold
Look out the window and there is nothing to see.
But, a rot 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 you’re the next in line
Born on the southside you live alone
Four walls a roof and it’s always cold
Look out the window and there is nothing to see.
But, a rot 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 you’re the next in line
Out the back door and to the corner store
All you want is a drink and nothing more
Sit on the stoop and Let the liquor sooth your pride
Before you go inside
And your chilled to the bone
With no possessions to call your own
Yet you control your rage
And you resist the crime
Because you’re the next in line
You cut in front and now you’re the next in line
You cut in front and now you’re the next in line
You never thought you’d lead a life of crime
You cut in front and now you’re the next in line
Freedoms 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 things gone wrong
And you want to be the man who ran away
And you wish you could go back to yesterday
Now he’s in her room and he’s about to lie
So you pull the gun squeeze the trigger
And you let the bullets fly…