Peckerwood

Peckerwood Most people never notice them But in poor neighborhoods There is born a special breed Known only as peckerwood. Their youth is spent in poverty And education from the streets By the time their in their teens They have a long rap sheet. Most of them are unwanted exCept by their own kind. Their life is something fleeting That most will never find Police call them criminals Priests pray for their souls To live their lives as they please Seems to be their only goals. They’ve grown up in institutions They’ll probably die in one To be buried in a graveyard Where a guard tower blocks the sun. They’d die before they’d snitch And never cheat a friend And when it’s time to get down They’ll be there till the end. With hearts scarred by life And eyes as cold as ice They laugh in the face of danger Cause their fate has rolled the dice Should you ever meet one When he has been freed Take time to try and know him For he is a special breed He’s been called a lot of names Most mean and no good But he takes great pride in knowing He’s a real Peckerwood.My daughters boyfriend asked me to print this for him. I thought it was rather unique. He said he got it while he was locked up (don't ask, he's just 18..lol...I wouldn't know, they were broke up at the time). Anyway, I don't know who wrote it, but I thought it was good! :) Written December 31st, 2001 © on Dec 30 2001 04:05 PM PST, Deborah Wolz   10 • 0