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Just Another John Doe
The row of the ore
The dog and the whore The man in the back with rabies and more Foam from the mouth Sat on the couch The ouch of the blow Just another John Doe. The silence of the clan, The whisper in the back of the van The exhaust and the open window. A young widow And a dumb sicko, Sickness in life, and rest in death The journey that inevitably leads us the final rest. Some come sooner than others Others, leave without a word, The heard that follows the Sheppard The bull that goes straight to the matador, Was born and bred to please the masses, People with fake eye glasses that pretend to see, The mind parted, like the seas when Moses was sent to help the Ones un-spoken for With sullen sores And stories that are never to be heard Just another John Doe. Just another ore that rows Just another line that subsides with the wake The forever feverous shake. Ferocious are we, And we choose not to see simply follow blindly That’s you and me, What were we ever supposed to be? Presidents or dictators Business people, shuffling papers Debt to a state that, really couldn’t care less if we break, And I know this, because I’ve seen it The man that beats his children and means it The officer that comes by and heeds his warning Never to act, whether it be early in the morning Or late at night Were not fighting the fight, because we choose not to see, And so we bleed, Just another John Doe |
