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Let me tell you a story
About a young buck South
In his nighttime glory
Getting high off his tunes
To later use one or two spoons
Minding his own business
Short of a neighborhood
Where his own kin lived
But that wasn’t enough
Came a lone-star stranger
Hoping to strut his stuff
Alerting the Po-Po
About his urge to blow
One whose smile was hard to glow
Stay back, they said don’t go
Like jumping from a rooftop
He made the kid stop
The pistol told a different story
For the cop and
Lone-Ranger gunning down
The nighttime glory
Stand Your Ground
Was the law they found
To cover up gagged and bound
And rid themselves of a Bassett Hound
Happens almost everyday
When night takes a walk in the day
The wrong way
Nighttime brings about fear
When things become missing it’s all too clear
That it must have been them
The ones who used to swing from a limb
But what’s past is past
Not in the midst of a law built to last
Maybe it’s just a slap in the face
Getting back at the darkness who won the race
Shame on America
When an unjustified death won’t disparage ya
A stalker is the aggressor
It’s doesn’t take a rock scientist or professor
To see that
It’s still about dollar signs
When a repressed Black man is bombarded with wines
And spirits
Damn near Whip-Its
Keeping his head underwater
He barely feeds his daughter
Let alone his son
Who’ll always be on the run
Because the Judge became executioner
Placing the blame on a juror
Who arrived with furor
After a brief tour of
The decision she would rise above
Six out of twelve
That was all was needed to send the dead to Hell
The Defense made a rinse
Out of the Prosecution probably made to straddle the fence
Jesus died for the Jews
Saved a man with a name who helped hide all the clues
With Justice
Because it just is
Now they all can take a pill
Shoot at will
Aim to kill
Yet and still
Until
A lighter shrill
Gets a fine thrill
From Tonto at the mill
Then nighttime glory
Gets paid for his fatal story
Stand Your Ground Law
Shole does have a fatal flaw
Those who lied
About what they saw
Need only be despised
By their mental claw
We know they saw much more
Women telling untruths so their butts won’t sore
Or
Men of his peers
Who supported a cause like one against steers and queers
Is it still envy toward the young buck
Who has all that hangin’ and still down on his luck
Whoever wrote “The Message”
Needs to come out of hiding and re-write the passage
Of the Black man
Who can’t even stand
When there’s a rule
That calls him a fool
For being a tool
In a tar pool
Even if he has gone to school
Where is Glory?
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