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Death on the
Street
by Don
They
move through the forest in a long winding trail
their eyes flick from left then to right
to catch and hold the smallest sight
that would mean an end to their night
They
move across the purple mountains
They float on the rivers so deep
They slide along the long green valleys
They know they've an appointment to keep
They've
come from their towns and their villages
To this place that might mean their end
They're yellow and white, and black and dark brown
All that is common is the gun that they tend
What
keeps them together in the group that they have?
Is it the truth or the freedom they seek
It's nothing so noble as that lofty cause
It's the loot that they hope they will keep
And
yet - they are men who are fighters
and heroes to some that they meet
In another place they would have had medals
Instead they expect death on the street
When
caught there can be no quarter
and their wives and their lovers will greet
at the news that the men they have loved
fought well - but found death on the street
They
fight for money that they hope they will spend
and people are living that just might be dead
Who cares who fires the bullets that sing in the night
If children can live - who just might be dead
The
politicians - as one - are against them
and say what they do is so wrong
and stand and make very long speeches
and then they do nothing - and the deaths carry on
So the
men from the forest are called in from the night
when the talking and the meetings are done
and the killing they do means that others might live
at peace in a country - hard won
Who will
remember these men from the night ?
Who fought in the dust and the heat
Whose names are forgotten when peace is at hand
Who fought - but found death on the street
Don
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