Another one rolled in with a tag on his toe, a John Doe
Nobody cared to name him who was he in life though
Was a he a brother, best friend, maybe even a dad
A methhead, college grad, what dreams could he have had
What dreams did he follow to finally end up here
Only late 20's, face frozen forever in fear
Was he afraid to die or was he afraid of the pain
Not that he was going through but of the life that he feigned
Did he tell his friends and family that he was living happily
Lying every day because he couldn't tell them valiantly
That he was getting tired of being tired and tired of
All of the prayers and questions with no answers from the God above
I'm not one to speculate, with all the problems we create
We could use some guidance please help us assimilate
Maybe that's our problem, we are far to quick to just conform
All our lives we're taught to fit in, we just want to be the norm
Is having our own thoughts that detrimental to society
Why does free thinking get such notoriety, just possibly...
I should stop before I get too far ahead, he's dead
No amount of thinking can raise him from his death bed
Lets focus on the facts, do my job, scribble notes on my report
Two bullets to the chest, cause of death? It is nothing of the sort
Hyoid bone, crushed to bits, gunshot wounds must be post-mort
Fit of rage, hands on neck, he's too far in now to abort
Finds his gun, sets the scene, dumps the body on the street
Calls the cops, shed fake tears, tells them "he was discreet"
gives a name, hints at drugs, "he was going to a meet"
connect the dots for the cops, "I wish he'd brought his heat"
Body prone, one arm bent, his outline left in white chalk
Now it has a red shirt and blue jeans as kids play on the sidewalk
Its a sad sight to know that kids like these
care more about who his was, while his parents care more about the gravestone fees
Work in progress.... I need to just start writing something again... Let me know what you think
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