About the journey we took escaping from jail.
Fresh air at last,
Family on my mind,
Cops on my ass.
Freedom stands here,
Holding my rough hands,
Slavery is snapping,
Like cheap rubber bands.
Watch the houses,
The lights are on,
Just one mistake,
And out cover is gone.
Let's take this road,
Watch for the cops,
Hell no we can't rest,
There's no time for stops.
Yes it's a store,
Let's buy a coke,
My mouth is dry,
This isn't a joke.
Here comes a cop,
Try to walk normal,
Walk like a kid,
Don't be so formal.
He's out of sight,
Take off running,
What the hell,
He's not even coming.
Here he is,
He's turning around,
Hit the nearest ditch,
Lay flat on the ground.
Ok he stopped,
I hear his voice,
We've got to run,
There's no other choice.
I try to listen,
As I see his light,
I'm stuck in here,
Far from his sight.
He passes by,
But he turns around,
He says freeze,
Lay flat on the ground!
I get in the car,
With steel on my wrist,
I try to contemplate,
How I could've stopped this.
I'm back in jail,
Bricks for a bed,
With perfect escapes,
All through my head.
Poetry by Justin
Read 480 times
Written on 2007-07-05 at 07:20
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Breathing Time
I jumped through,Fresh air at last,
Family on my mind,
Cops on my ass.
Freedom stands here,
Holding my rough hands,
Slavery is snapping,
Like cheap rubber bands.
Watch the houses,
The lights are on,
Just one mistake,
And out cover is gone.
Let's take this road,
Watch for the cops,
Hell no we can't rest,
There's no time for stops.
Yes it's a store,
Let's buy a coke,
My mouth is dry,
This isn't a joke.
Here comes a cop,
Try to walk normal,
Walk like a kid,
Don't be so formal.
He's out of sight,
Take off running,
What the hell,
He's not even coming.
Here he is,
He's turning around,
Hit the nearest ditch,
Lay flat on the ground.
Ok he stopped,
I hear his voice,
We've got to run,
There's no other choice.
I try to listen,
As I see his light,
I'm stuck in here,
Far from his sight.
He passes by,
But he turns around,
He says freeze,
Lay flat on the ground!
I get in the car,
With steel on my wrist,
I try to contemplate,
How I could've stopped this.
I'm back in jail,
Bricks for a bed,
With perfect escapes,
All through my head.
Poetry by Justin
Read 480 times
Written on 2007-07-05 at 07:20
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
