Street Chivalry

Your pistol glimmers in the moonlight. This is how we fight. Cocked, locked, and loaded, your ready to die. For my five dollars and a quick little high. A genuine cop killer you hold. To you I cannot fold. Through your eyes I see the pain. Much like mine, for what you do I cannot blame. For me this is routine. Is this the real American dream? Some what like brothers are you and I. For it is on these streets we live and die. No one dreams of living like this. Anything else, we know would be bliss. Sadly, this is how we live. I know why you take for you cannot give. Despite this common bond we share. It is from these hands, my money you must tear. And it is here we are no longer brothers. On these streets we kill one another.