Unplanned Suicide
Thirteen men are now dead,
Their bodies are crying tears of red.
Thirteen bullets were fired,
The men they hit are now expired.
The eagle’s sharp bloody talons
Are stained by 20 more ill-gotten gallons.
Our dead are on the streets and ground,
Average land is now a burial mound.
Widowed women quietly weep,
The dead men's secrets are theirs to
Their bodies are crying tears of red.
Thirteen bullets were fired,
The men they hit are now expired.
The eagle’s sharp bloody talons
Are stained by 20 more ill-gotten gallons.
Our dead are on the streets and ground,
Average land is now a burial mound.
Widowed women quietly weep,
The dead men's secrets are theirs to
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