Mixed up messed up
wacky Yankee doodle world,
curled up in a ball
like an animal should,
its no good running guns
and popping and burning in your own hood.
Used to be bike chains and brassknuckles
A Filipino dude with a balisong,
but now its a Beretta in every waistline.
Machine pistol mean mugs
putting drugs above people
in the hierarchy of the streets,
cold blooded hits, where there used to be beating.
No wonder every Tom **** And Harry, is crying Apocalypse Now!
It's not over till everybody gets a chance to sing, take it all in.
Begin anew, step through, and claim the future you want for your great grand children.