Featherweight Hate - Street Sects

On your so called disease

I was certain you’d die

Staring drunkenly into my eyes

And your worth was obscured

No one valued your word

Your last ride in my car

Cost you a dime behind bars

Leaving a wife and child

To fend for themselves

Carrying secrets you knew

They’d be too scared to tell

Blamed your arrest

On your poor taste in friends

But it wasn’t their fault

You let desperation break your heart

And I know it was wrong

To never visit or call

But as our mother would say

I had my own debts to pay

On the eve of your release I began trembling

As thoughts raced through my mind

I’d heard talk of how you’d changed inside

So I showered and then loaded my shotgun

And sat facing the door

To welcome my brother back home