Letters from the dead

I killed my first man at eighteen years old
I watched his eyes go dim and felt his heart grow cold
That memory's from a journal of sorts buried deep within my head
Fragmented pieces of thoughts once lost...letters from the dead...


I know I probably shouldn't write about certain types of crime
but I've already been convicted and I've already served my time
It's kind of funny how sad life becomes growing up around death
I remember looking into his eyes as he took his final breath
I knew the guy I killed, I had seen him around the block
and his father was one of those religious guys so he was always wanting to talk
"sent his son...blah, blah, blah...to forgive you of your sin..."
Go and find somebody else, homeboy...I am lost from deep within
There were two of us together that day when dude got in my space
and my buddy started instigating as we were standing face to face
That's why I had to kill that guy, because he wouldn't let me be
and I think now looking back on it I was jealous that he seemed so free
Regardless, it happened in an instant, we both had some words to say
and in that split-second...his life was taken away
For a long time after that, death was my best friend
but friends can quickly turn on you, and can kill you in the end...


At twenty-six years old, I killed my very last man
It was a long time coming, it was a well-laid plan
The plan was found in a journal of sorts buried deep beneath my bed
that I read in my cell, my living hell...letters inked in red...


Time and space I can't erase, but this other guy had to die
He took something that belonged to me and then had the nerve to lie
This time it was different because this time it was about revenge
My cell, my bars...my mental scars...my future to avenge
Usually, locked up, I'd find a friend willing to give his own life for mine
and this one would help me carry out the plan, this killing by design
The craziest thing about being confined is that you lose part of your mind
and even when you're physically free, true freedom you can't find
Razor-wire and chain-link fence and concrete walls will soon decay
but the bars inside your heart and mind sometimes never go away
In my own way I lived that way, another day in the hole
and I was tired of living but not being alive because another had taken my soul
My friend on the outside who I knew from the inside said it was time to ride or die
so I firmly grabbed my red-lettered plan and held my hands up towards the sky
Crying from slowly dying, I screamed for Christ to set me free
and he answered my plea by letting me see; both people killed in this rhyme were me...

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