Don'T Shoot
Here sick in the thick of the actions of you
Contemplating a reaction- don't know what to do
All lost in the sauce trying to find our way
We'll get through this to God I pray
Michael Brown heaven has a space
Tell Travon I still see his face
Slaughter like, target practice and the hands of hate
I hope God comes down personally to orchestrate
Black president in the white house yet they're still trying to make us see
That racist is still alive and well in the hands of the enemy
Can you even see me pass the bullets you spray?
A little pass into the future of mine that you're taken away
As I lay on this ground struggling to breathe
I ask God why is it my turn to leave
Please Lord tell me now what did I do to deserve
to die by the one who is suppose to protect and serve
Copyright © Terria Bradshaw | Year Posted 2014
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