My Tears
by George "Papa" G.
papagtg@swbell.net
Fog blurrs the vison,
as my truck speeds along
radio plays a sad country song
with traffic and news...
A child died!
Now, I sing the blues...
time for whore to go to prison:
A mother with a taste for speed,
My face flush with hot tears...
A murderess
cranked and fucking for weed;
All I can think of is that childs last fears...
Killed her own in a fit of rage,
for the baby sinned;
cried while mama was sucking cock...
Evil lives, though I do not believe in satan.!!!!
Where are the Gods?
Where some family? What a crock...
What to offer a dead child but my love, my anger, and my Tears?
Water shed... A Child bled...
A drug addict cries for mercy...
ACLU begs for a whore
and, I cry for a baby I never knew..
Will my saddness bring the child back?
Will tears after the fact help her now?
Understand I do not
how a mother her own could slew...
Dressed in black,
My rhymes eases no pain,
my face even now does rain,
my useless tears...
Thoughts of my boys
and, what they mean to me
rings in my heart, my Soul...
How do some treat
treat thier own as toys?
So helplessly I cry,
in the end, all
I can give is my Tears