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Street Sects

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Street Sects

Featherweight Hate

Blamed your defeat
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
Bought 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
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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