Low Rider Poem by Bill Simmons

When I was just sixteen
I picked up a gun
My moma taught me better
But I was having fun

Me and the fellas
We would drive around all night
Up and down that boulevard
Low rider painted white

Me and the boys
We were so misunderstood
We were just out having fun
Chasing every skirt we could

Then one night out breaks a fight
And out comes that gun
Then suddenly the trigger’s pulled
I took the life of one

They put me in prison
They tried me like a man
I tried to say an accident
But still I killed that man

I wont be out till I’m gray and old
And it still haunts my soul
I see his eyes the night he died
And that low rider on the road

I think about his moma
I think about his pa
I think about what he might have been
But now wont be at all

I think about when I took his life
And every night I can see his eyes
And every night it haunts my soul
Low rider on the road.