When the wall is falling in towards you grab a gun.
There is no fun in being hurt by those corrupt that have
Never cared and never will about you.
Crushed by the wall one brick at a time, left alive
Not choosing your own end by a cop.
How could everything you planned out go so wrong,
A lazy lawyer with a small mind, rural areas filled full of.
Knowing no one a gun can be hard to get, telling you lies
Lieing begets.
And after the deed is done they take their own life, murder
Bone white,
How then can they say that capital punishment works?
Over shadowed by the tall wall, heavy old block's intermittently
Patched with red bricks, made from white clay.
Being left made to feel expendable, having no worth, hope has fled
Leaving a manifesto behind you, and still they wonder why,
Even when the answer is in front of them, uncaring the yellow
Canary has died.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem