In the city down on mean street
There in the saddest part of town
Iron barred gates adorn store windows
Abandon homes are falling down.
Shattered glass in curbs and gutters
Like the broken dreams that lie there
Everywhere you look on mean street
lie grim reminders of despair.
Satan’s work takes place on mean street
Where pimps and pushers ply their trade
Hookers, not much more than children
Victims of the devil’s brigade.
Danger lurks each day on mean street
Where life is fleeting and it’s cruel.
Death is common, death is daily
A death by violence is the rule.
Like a circle never ending
New generations face the same
Rules on mean street are unbending
There are no winners in the game.
Ron Flowers 2007
