Looking out the window on the bus
At the crumbling world
Watching all the prostitute little girls
All the boys with guns
Ready and waiting to fire one
A early death has been their desire
No one knows of their pain
No one knows why they drink hennsey
No one knows why they blaze a blunt
No one knows why they take mushrooms
No one knows why they turn to pills
No one know why they want to kill
No one knows why meth captures them
No one knows why they overdose
On the worst of them
Why all the killing?
Why all the fighting?
No one knows what goes on at home
No one knows what is in their dome
No one knows why some don't want to go home
No one knows why they feel so alone
There was a time were I felt like them
I cry
And sigh
And hope for them
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