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on the mural sits a born hero
a cause of a lot of pain
left a this world a stain
it took a vilage to fail
at raising a son to be a man
of distintion who developed
a habit of reeking havoc
if it didn't belong to him
he had to have it the police
chained the beast the pen
done the least to tame it
no one safe in the street
upon release no silence no
peace the plots thickens
something creeps through the
trees in the forest footsteps
in by the creek what stinks it's
a stench in the woods some
one scream help me plese no
one dared to rescue a vitim
of lack of care not even one up
stairs all witnesses
are dead all the survivors
scared heads turn not to
see evil lurking among them
facing the wall wondering
if it's a mirage it's a
damn good job that must be
done when the sun goes down
there's no light on high no
answer no reply to the
question why as the clock
struck nine turned into
six and turn back time
six 6 o'clock on the dot
rubbed off paint attemting
to rub out the spot the
the smudge wouldn't budge
had to stop erase text then
start on the next theme
