Woman.

Red and Blue.

Red And Blue.
Police lights.
Battle flags.
America.
Sweet America.
Land of the free.
*With Some Exceptions.

Red and Blue.
A war between two - the innocent and the,
Innocent.
Raising guns at their enemies,
Their hands delicately twisting with their rankings.
Their faces hiding behind the masks of inner-city living.
Their mothers crying out for their babies in the pews of an empty church,
Only God can save them now.

A coffin or a cell.
Forever locked in a box not made to accommodate their bodies,
But accommodations are the least of their worries.
An empty plate,
A wandering father,
A struggling mother working three jobs to put food on those empty plates,
An air mattress for a bed.

Of course a gun is their best friend.
Their best friends are their worst enemies normally.
From a gun pointed to your temple for slanging a few dimebags,
To a gun pointed to your temple for selling a few dimebags.
No one on your side because there is a gun to your head.

Red and Blue,
But let's not forget the white.
The white holds it all together as we paint the picture of America.
Our founding fathers laugh in the faces of the Red and Blue,
Knowing they planted the seeds of death in such a small community.
The chains still shackled to our feet,
The whips still clashing our backs.
But the Red and Blue.
The Red and Blue have the science of it.

See,
Live in poverty your entire life,
Fast money is everything you need,
Everything you want.
Sell a few here and there to feed your children,
Feed your mother.
Have a gun strapped to the waist of your low rising jeans.
Have the system gunning after you,
Having your enemies gunning after you.
There is only death,
So why not an early grave.
Why not just end it here.
Why live your life fighting to break bread with the people that want your body to wash down a river?