Paid in Fool

Everybody wants to be a gangster
until the judge bangs the gavel on
their brittle hearts and it shatters
like champagne flutes.

I don’t know if thats because
they’ve been singing to the feds,
or because their sentence didn’t
have a period at the end.

Either way they’re walking the
plank of a desolate alley blindfolded
and shackled, why their so-called friends
sip on brews and take doobies to the face.

They know nothing about kin.
Nothing about getting paid
because they’re all broke.
Loyalty is more than just a tattoo
that you permanently inked in your flesh.

The streets never showed no love,
but somehow you chose to marry
them before a woman.

You’re all just boys in mens bodies.
We’re all just boys in mens bodies.

Trying to find a way out of this hell we call “The Trap”.