Putting Out the Trash

On the basement floor of a downtown store,
Sits a man with no plan near a gun on the floor.
And his eyes flick left,
Then his eyes flick right,
Tracking the dots from the laser sights.
Too much baggage,
Too many years,
Cleared the house out,
Faced the fears.
Been locked down,
Been locked up,
Out of options,
Out of luck.

Putting out the trash.
Putting out the trash.

They won't get me thinks the man with no plan,
'Cause they never got my daddy back in Vietnam,
And Pop-pop came home from World War two,
And I weathered Storms in a Desert for you.

And that's all true.
Well, most of it.

Cop with a cocked Glock, eyes on the perp walk,
Girl on the sidewalk not making smalltalk.
Pleading for daddy,
Begging for his life,
Pray for his kids and his poor dead wife.
Surfeit of heartache,
Surplus of grief,
Dearth of redemption,
Lack of relief.
No excuses,
No more lies,
No do-overs,
No more tries.

Taking out the trash.
Taking out the trash.

Shots shriek out in the night like a street fight,
Screams shatter dreams like gulls at a gravesite.
State of confusion,
State of alarm,
Body in a bag doing no more harm.
Sift the papers,
Shift the blame,
Play it safe now,
Play the game.
Make the news fake,
Face the press,
Wipe the slate clean,
Clear the mess.

Waste of food and waste of space,
Loss of temper loss of face,
Loss of liberty fall from grace,
Wasted life perverts this place.

And that's all lies,
Well, some of it.

Putting out the trash.
Putting out the trash.

---