I don’t know that person
That street boy
Used to climb those trees
In an older neighborhood
It could be on a Thursday
Or sometimes at Sunday
He came with no warning
Running nonstop

A clay pot went missing
Flowers were stomped
Closing gates creaking
But the street always did

That aggravates me
That nonstop running boy
Only causing trouble
Everything disappears
Old angry folks
The one f’d up kid
Takes away our peace
But our peace comes
In the shape of a car

A clay pot went missing
Flowers were stomped
Closing gates creaking
But the street always did

In a crowded street
There he dies
Deep blood puddle
Where the boy lie

Desperation takes over
Tears running dry
Deep blood puddle
Where the boy lie