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Listen real close, my little friend,
this is me, not the wind.
I know you’re young, stubborn as a mule,
but hear these words and don’t take me as a fool.
It’s behind the big ugly wall,
where men and women truly fall.
Around the world, have you been,
think you know it all, can only win?
Stand around, watch it all,
you won’t feel so damn tall!
You’ll quickly learn,
it isn’t butter in here they churn.
I heard a shriek, turned to see,
before my very eyes, murder in the first degree.
These men are animals with certain needs,
one boy bends over, another drops to his knees.
They’re sick and they’re mean,
it doesn’t matter if you’re an adult or just a teen.
In pain someone cried and screamed,
no biggy, it was only a guard getting reamed.
Refusal to pay came from the man’s tongue,
he was beat to death, then hung.
One snitched, his sentence was no joke,
a pair of hands showed him how to choke.
Still another ratted, this ended all his fun,
from his throat, like a river, blood did run.
There are laws, they are their own,
learn them quick, else they’ll be shown.
The weak do not last,
break the prison code you go down fast.
You’ll learn a lot, you’ll learn it well,
here it’s worse than Hell.
You’ll lose your mind, you’ll lose your soul,
be careful, else your heart be stole.
Have you paid attention, did you really hear?
this is the place the Devil himself does fear.
Here I am, fresh out of the penitentiary,
expected to fit in with society.
I have no wheels, not a trade,
can ‘t even get into the army brigade.
I began to take and I began to connive,
this is what we are taught in order to survive.
I heard a click, I heard my name,
knew it was the end of my game.
I looked around, what did I see?
six forty-fives staring straight at me.
Once again I sit behind bars of steel,
where only Pain, Hate, and Death are real.
The street life may be hard, but it’s easier than the joint,
am I making myself clear, are you getting the point?
This is my story, this is my song,
you may not believe I’m right, but I’m surely not wrong.
I have seen many of lives ruined and destroyed in “time,”
don’t call me a liar, for one of them was mine.
You may think life isn’t fair and too hard,
but friend, that is only because
you have not lived on the Boulevard.
by Curt Stowell