Better Choices
By Justin Collins

Not knowing why I'm still around. Just living this life hell-bound. All my childhood homie's are either dead or committing crimes. All the homies been found and I'm stayin under ground. Ain't afraid of nothin but that siren sound. Running through a land that used to be free. Picture a f@*k up and you'll see me. In my head Im going back to a time when I used to be pure. Before my name became a slur. Before the war I had a wife and son. With out them my life seems like it can never be won. She took my baby 400 miles to show me he'll grow up without me. When my Scarlet woman left me I tried to pretend to be cool. Broken down by life, knowing I'm a fool. But the old me is dead.

Methodically gunned down. Lying in a strange bed, no soul to be found. Waiting for the fire burning up to cleanse my soul. When I think about death I can hear the church bells. At night I'm dreaming evil dreams. Never left alone by midnight screams. I wish I had lived a better life, showed my girl I loved her more than hyped up love letters. When my last homie died did I even know and if so where did his spirit go. His soul ripped from his body. One more life lost in Down Town San Jo. When I walk alone I still know my boys got my back watching from shadows. Before life got ill we were content. Always having excuses for needing to vent. Life got serious and my mind won't let go of all its regrets. How should I feel when my own mother sent me up the river. At 20 years old my piss is brown from a worn out liver. Fools not respecting is gonna make me a killer. I tried to get my point across but I don't know how to be any realer.