Sirens hanging on each traffic
Blood tipping the toes of passersby
Each on their brow, they begin to mop their sweats
Cars filed like millipedes
A man had just been murdered,
His head was barely hanging on,
The doer’s head was bent into the cop-car
He had been a victim!
Yes! Everybody thought him a criminal
But a victim he had become,
Not of murder as laid on the street But of social injustice!