The Projects

by Christopher J. Holmes

They call me a villain 
ĎCause I grab my gun and start killiní my own kind 
The sun donít shine where Iím from 
Nothing but dreary days and 
A grayish haze 

Yet yíall all amazed and dazed 
At why Iím crazed at this life I live 
ThatĎs why I kill! 
I was raised with killers and drug dealers 
I saw my motherís head hit the door 
before she hit the floor 
With a bruised eye and a cracked wrist 

All done by my fatherís fist 
Say Iím going to hell 
But Iím already here 

Surrounded by fear 
I drop a tear 
Crack open a beer 
And try to steer clear of trouble 
In the rubble they call the 

The Projects by Christopher J. Holmes

© Copyright 2005. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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