Crooked Black Crosses

Grass stabbing into feet Crooked black crosses in the street As the star headed children play on the hill-side While guns and their bullets would parade Red, white, black in memory gutters Filling lives with empty chambers reeking with death Bibles stained with blood and tears Family's dead with broken fears Prayers filled with beautiful secrets Minds numb under blood stained skies In between hand-fulls of prayer lay leather bound promises Tears carrying more sorrow than the word Under fingernails hold torment and oppression With uniforms that mark serious obsession Mixing sadness under the sun Playing games while children run Under feet lay errupting murder Where the wind brings back dead bodies And faces mangled by mourning When day breaks night already turns to morning Birth was a baby's first mistake But just when they crawl into their withering womb they are drawn out Surrounding bullets become friends of death When guns become settled with murderous fingers Sorrow the friend of sadness Love the equivalent to madness Where badges stab their glory And bullets end a young souls story.