Little brown feet, soft and smooth,
Babies each day open big brown eyes,
Learn to laugh,
They walk down the crowded street,
hands nestled into mommies,
They hear a Bang Pop Scream,
Mommy grips his tiny hand and he begins to cry,
Light refracts and reflects from his crystal tears,
Tracing rivers and creeks across those little brown cheeks.
The people so proud walk the streets,
Blue shirts, blue pants, blue caps,
But every Bang, Pop, Blood drop and tear,
shed on those streets,
Signals the death, cancellation, erase,
of another little brown baby, big eyes empty, skin cool,
He won't smile and take his diploma, She won't laugh or get the big job,
They won't even make it to their senior prom.
These lives were sweet and innocent, these lives were dark and grim,
she was a thug, he was a dancer, they were a clerk,
But no matter what their lives became at heart we are all human.
Lower your guns,
Look that brown boy in the eye,
And tell me he doesn't deserve tomorrow.
Tell me he's not fit for this world, his life is a fluke or flaw,
Tell me again why he needed to die.