ANGELS IN THE HOOD
© July 2016 Written by: The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
Traffic moving swiftly while people are so unaware
Souls and filth scattered across the ground, without a single care
While the innocent are scared to walk down a city street
Fear keeps most in a shaken world of constant self defeat
They say it's time to take back what was once rightfully ours
And now they are a new set of protectors, who were once thugs behind bars
30 years prior they roamed the streets they thought were their's
Now to a new life of crime, to protect the innocent, from such deep despair
To turn their wrongs back into rights
To make Safe those ghostly streets of the night
So people can live their lives the way they all deserve
Instead of hiding behind closed doors, to a life that's become a blur
These gangsters of old will walk the streets once again
Letting thugs of today feel the difference between the boys and the men.
Make no mistake because these former devils should not be misunderstood
Cause now there soldiers of God, who've become Angels in the Hood
The slime, they work off the young to supply their daily trade
Young girls sell their bodies walking their nightly parade
Druggies line up the alleys, dying a slow death each and every day
Supplied by the workers from the so called, café of foul play
If a change is to happen, it needs to be now
Before it's too late and more lost souls make no sounds
To make life safe again and to give people some hope
So they won't lose to the hookers, thugs, and let's not forget the dope
It's different this time, it's a chapter brand new
To get back the streets and the lives it once new
To hear the sounds of children laughing and playing once again
To smile and shake the hand of a neighbor, who might become your friend.
These gangsters of old walk the streets once again
Letting thugs of today feel the difference between the boys and the men
Make no mistake these former devils should not be misunderstood
Cause now there soldiers of God, who've become Angels in the Hood
© July 2016 Written by: The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
Traffic moving swiftly while people are so unaware
Souls and filth scattered across the ground, without a single care
While the innocent are scared to walk down a city street
Fear keeps most in a shaken world of constant self defeat
They say it's time to take back what was once rightfully ours
And now they are a new set of protectors, who were once thugs behind bars
30 years prior they roamed the streets they thought were their's
Now to a new life of crime, to protect the innocent, from such deep despair
To turn their wrongs back into rights
To make Safe those ghostly streets of the night
So people can live their lives the way they all deserve
Instead of hiding behind closed doors, to a life that's become a blur
These gangsters of old will walk the streets once again
Letting thugs of today feel the difference between the boys and the men.
Make no mistake because these former devils should not be misunderstood
Cause now there soldiers of God, who've become Angels in the Hood
The slime, they work off the young to supply their daily trade
Young girls sell their bodies walking their nightly parade
Druggies line up the alleys, dying a slow death each and every day
Supplied by the workers from the so called, café of foul play
If a change is to happen, it needs to be now
Before it's too late and more lost souls make no sounds
To make life safe again and to give people some hope
So they won't lose to the hookers, thugs, and let's not forget the dope
It's different this time, it's a chapter brand new
To get back the streets and the lives it once new
To hear the sounds of children laughing and playing once again
To smile and shake the hand of a neighbor, who might become your friend.
These gangsters of old walk the streets once again
Letting thugs of today feel the difference between the boys and the men
Make no mistake these former devils should not be misunderstood
Cause now there soldiers of God, who've become Angels in the Hood
WHISKEY AND A PRAYER
© November 2016 Written by: The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
Whiskey and wine are like moments in time
That ruffles your memory to days gone by
Drags you back to places where you don't want to be
Shows you the truth that sometimes is tough to see
Hoping for a blessing, while searching for faith
It's a journey that lead many, to a painful heartbreak
Broken and torn from a life of disconnect
Trying hard to hold your spirit, while trying hard to forget
It's back to walking on that old red dirt clay
Where I stumble throughout my nights, and confused through-out my day's
Lost and confused, looking for a friend and crying out to nowhere
But it's always the same, so dam lonely with not a soul who cares
The cupboards of my soul are bare and my spirit is scared
And my dirt roads, they lead to nowhere and once there, folks, don't care
My dreams take me to places where only dark lies are told
A journey so long, patience so short, and a place where my body's chilled to the bone
My days are so crazy, my mind is so dammed confused
I am worn out, battered, bruised and even a bit amused
It's been so bad that my spirit in anger gave my soul a dare
Hell, I excepted, only after some Whiskey and a Prayer
© November 2016 Written by: The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
Whiskey and wine are like moments in time
That ruffles your memory to days gone by
Drags you back to places where you don't want to be
Shows you the truth that sometimes is tough to see
Hoping for a blessing, while searching for faith
It's a journey that lead many, to a painful heartbreak
Broken and torn from a life of disconnect
Trying hard to hold your spirit, while trying hard to forget
It's back to walking on that old red dirt clay
Where I stumble throughout my nights, and confused through-out my day's
Lost and confused, looking for a friend and crying out to nowhere
But it's always the same, so dam lonely with not a soul who cares
The cupboards of my soul are bare and my spirit is scared
And my dirt roads, they lead to nowhere and once there, folks, don't care
My dreams take me to places where only dark lies are told
A journey so long, patience so short, and a place where my body's chilled to the bone
My days are so crazy, my mind is so dammed confused
I am worn out, battered, bruised and even a bit amused
It's been so bad that my spirit in anger gave my soul a dare
Hell, I excepted, only after some Whiskey and a Prayer
