Sunt prostul lui Piaf,
Șad pe marmura neagră
Și nu-mi plac străinii
Care vin doar pentru Morrison.

I will not leave anything
So mean as a promise to you.
Nor with trifles, stand trembling
And suffer penance
Below your bastion box.

But I am now hard-put
And sweet meats the dearer to me for it.

The lamps in the parlour are doused;
She has emptied them of gas--
Critical, unforgiving crone!
And left me alone in the house.
Does she mean this be for good?

She has called me “disgraced”
And thinks that her going
Will “purge this taint”
From my soul.
But I shall go on as I have,
Doing the right things
At the wrong time,
As is my genius,
Until the chloral takes me,
You forgive me,
Or night falls.

Listen to the silence
It's louder than before
A Lion now has left us
We no longer hear his roar

A poet of the people
His voice a summer storm
The lion now is silenced
Now silence is the norm

Read the words he's written
Listen to the voice
The lion has entrapped you
You do not have a choice

We were in his story
He touched us to our core
Now, the lion...he is silenced
And Bart Wolffe will roar no more

A man walks home from his job
Part-time at two different places
To feed his child and give shelter
With his child's mother in place
This man would live life daily as
Best as he could like any other
Marijuana smoke helps dull pain
And heartache from another
Job and opportunity lost, cause
Of simple mistakes avoidable
Had he been more responsible
As the day draws to a close
Celebrations begin for a year
A year of renewal and promises
To improve, to provide, to guide
In his eyes he sees the fiery day
Give in to an unforgiving night

Fearful of taking an innocent life or
Having his life taken in an instant
He put faith in a train to plot
A direct course for the party
Returning home in the morning
To his little daughter and lover
Perhaps too much fun was had
A little much drink in plastic cup
Fights broke out in the live night
Of which friends of him were apart
Involving him in old hood beef
Fists met flesh but not bullet
For skin hadn't been torn by metal
Leaving human crimson along
The roadside beltway or floor
This was a rivalry among men
Whom lived without abandon
And strived for a daily dime

Men of the law would intervene
As is requisite of such actions
But reactions are destructive
Conducive to leaving lines
And plenty body bag designs
All aligned with ***** tiles
The tile that his stomach lies
As the kneecaps dig into him
Of a grown man with a life, wife,
And child in the womb of her
Similar to the man beneath him
But he reaches towards his belt
As his brother struggles below
Black like the early morning
Consuming the two of them
The fruits are veiled in this station
Fruits of deep seeded hate and
Inaction in the face of atrocities:
Glaring and gazing steadily

The shot rang out...

One. Light. Shines.
As. The. Bullet. Flies.
And. Burns. Flesh.

YOU SHOT ME!

... Echoes in the distance

Internal organs are dying
Breathes are more labored
His daughter and lover
Would find 7 hours later
That they would be left
In the distance that took him
An imperfect man slain
In an imperfect world.