Seven Grey Bullets Now Red

This morning when he was still alive, He had a hot coffee to drink, Read the paper, planned his day, Was happily able to think, He chose his shirt, jeans, shoes and hat, Kissed his wife goodbye, Started the motor in his beautiful car, And drove to his nine to five, Then walked through the door, heard the shot, He dropped down to the floor, And realized as he knelt there dying, He’d seen this scene before, In a street war film where folks are shot-down, Called “Seven Grey Bullets Now Red”, He knew in an instant how his story ends, In a pool of blood he’d be dead.