The black, the white
The guilty, the innocent
You do not feel anything at first
But as you fall to the ground
The pain washes over you and it is excruciating
I talked to the widow on my way in
I peeped through the window as she sang
“Still all my song shall be
Nearer, my God, to thee”
Chair scraped, she sat there with her fiddle
Sooner or later, men with the badge find the wrong end of the rifle
Men with the badge can only talk through their guns or their fists
There is nothing scarier than a man with a gun
They shot her husband in the back in the dying of the sun
They grabbed him by the feet, cracked his head open
They left her son with holes, in the mud to die
Their bodies left to fester and corrupt in the hot sun
Tears come to my eyes
I have nothing but sorrow
There is no hope for tomorrow
The ranger in a uniform
The right luminary
The sinner, the saint
You do not feel anything at first
But as you fall to the ground
The pain washes over you and it is excruciating
Everyday is a blue Monday
I hear a gunshot
I hear cheering and whistling
The lawman winds up dead on the street, shot in the back
An officer of the law
A virtual human barricade between chaos and civilization
Two patrol lawmen down in the time it takes to spit
A rifle can still bite you hard at hundred yards
All dead before they even hit the ground
You fall and never know you fell
The night is my companion
Launches my thoughts and opinions
