The affiliation with gangs keeps the *** shops in business after hours
The prostitutes sell their souls and bodies to make ends meet
But what does 'making an honest living' even mean?
When the police can't even keep the streets we call home, clean?
When the government can't keep crime at bay,
And show these forgotten souls a different pathway?
But can still look forward to a pay rise every second day.

Déjà vu of a man walking his dog home after the transaction is complete.
The drugs are in his hand and his dog is on a leash.
The man doesn't have dark skin so police let him walk in peace.

The moon is high,
Casting a shadow,
Over the kids in the streets.
Higher and brighter than the moon could ever be,
They stay out late,
So they can afford to sleep.

The world was theirs if they had a can and clean walls,
To express the lost art called freedom of speech,
But if they didn't,
Then who's world was it?
Probably yours.

The stumbling ******,
Caught fumbling his car keys,
Is put behind bars,
Before he reaches his car.

After further investigation,
He was searching for his insulin.
Oh well,
Six months imprisonment.

If he does't retaliate he'll get off on probation,
But if he has a fit from not getting his medication,
We'll say he attacked us.
Beat him to death,
And get awarded community protection,
Medals.