My friend can't go home no more.
I guess that's what happens when you're too poor
to be a good kid in good clothes in a
bad neighborhood that's no good,
where pride makes you a traitor to your kind.
When his brother was murdered a year ago,
it was the same as it is now.
There's no witness relocation plans for those in slums.
I know, because my friend could sure use one.
Third-grade brothers and sisters threatened by grown men,
who stand outside while families slowly died. They tried
to talk to Edwin Eisendrath,
but the chairman of the C.H.A. can't find a way
to keep one family safe.
"Nothing's that important to me."
You two sit by the phone
waiting for that special girl to call.
I used to forget to go on
when my days got too long.
I feel really scared,
but it always wears away.
It doesn't always go away.