Gun shots fired over the alarm clock radio,

Sounds of someone else's war.

Where the bullets fall more frequent than rain,

12 months have passed since this shell game, began.

There's traffic in their skies

Terrors name tattooed on their lips,

Children taking sides because their daddies said.

People played like pawns, all wired into the game,

making someone else's moves, they fight.

Arms slice arms

Eyes exchanged with eyes,

Sight blinded,

And morality murdered in the streets.

Each man, woman, child draws their arms,

Creating a front, playing a part.

12 months have passed since this shell game, began.