Hidden in the masquerade of skyscrapers,
Muffled by the breaths of the city,
Live the kids of the blackened streets of the forgotten
In the Projects

Within the maze of crumbling buildings,
Lie the children who've seen the face of death
The ringing of police sirens
Are their morning alarm
And their lullaby before bed
They sing along to the anthem of gunshots
They paint the walls of their mind
With the blood of their fallen brothers

There is no escape
From the tyranny of the ghettos
Their fate is sealed.
Each of them is doomed to find themselves
On the wrong end of a gun
Held by the trigger-happy hands of a man in uniform
Or worse, killed by one of their own blood

Safety is but a dream
Under the lucid sleep of **** and Xanax
Dissipating through the grey streams of smoke
Chasing the broken skyline