Little Jack Horner sitting on the corner.

The first day of school was always the hardest
The first day of school the
hallways the darkest
Like a gauntlet
the voices haunted
Walking in
with his thin skin lowered chin
He knew the names that they would taunt him
with
Faggot sissy punk queen queer
Although he'd never had sex in his 15
years
And when they harassed him it was for a reason
And when they
provoked him it became open season
for the fox and the hunter, the sparks
and the thunder
that pushed the boy under, then pillage and plunder
It
kind of makes you wonder
how one can hurt another
But dehumanizing the
victim makes things simpler
It's like breathing with a respirator
It
eases the conscience of even the most conscious
and calculating
violator
Words can reduce a person to an object,
something more easy to
hate
An inanimate entity, completely disposable,
no problem to
obliterate

But death is the silence
in this language of
violence
Death is the silence
But death is the silence
in this cycle
of violence
death is the silence
It's tough to be young, the young long
to be tougher
When we pick on someone else it might make us feel
rougher
Abused by their fathers but was at home though
so to prove to
each other that they were not homos
The exclamation of the phobic
fury
executioner, a judge and jury
The mob mentality, individuality was
nowhere
Dignity forgotten at the bottom of a dumb old dare and a numb
cold
stare
On the way home it was back to name calling
Ten against one
they had his back up against the wall and
they reveled in their laughter as
they surrounded him
But it wasn't a game when they up jumped and grounded
him
They picked up their bats with their muscles straining
and they
decided they were gonna beat this fella's brain in
with an awful, powerful,
showerful, an hour full of violence
Inflict the strictest brutality and
dominance
They didn't hear him screaming, they didn't hear him
pleading
They ran like cowards and left the boy bleeding
in a pool of red
'til all tears were shed
and his eyes quietly slid into the back of his
head
dead...

You won't see the face 'til the eyelids
drop
You won't hear the screaming until it stops
The boy's parents were
gone and his grandmother had raised him
She was mad she had no form of
retaliation
The pack didn't have to worry about being on a hitlist
But
the thing they never thought about was that there was a witness
to this
senseless crime, right place wrong time
Tried as an adult one of them was
gonna do hard time
The first day of prison was always the hardest
The
first day of prison, the hallways the darkest
Like a gauntlet
the voices
haunted
Faggot, sissy, punk, queen, queer
Words he used before had a new
meaning in here
As a group of men in front of him came near
for the first
time in his life the young bully felt fear
He'd never been on this side of
the name calling
Five against one they had his back up against the wall
and
he had never questioned his own sexuality
but this group of men
didn't hesitate in their reality
with an awful, powerful, showerful, an hour
full of violence
Inflict the strictest brutality and dominance
They didn't
hear him screaming
They didn't hear him pleading
They took what they
wanted and then left him bleeding in the corner
The giant reduced to jack
horner
But dehumanizing the victim makes things simpler
It's like
breathing with a respirator
It eases the conscience of even the most
conscious
and calculating violator
The power of words, don't take it for
granted
when you hear a man ranting
Don't just read the lips, be more
sublime than this
Put everything in context, is this a tale of rough
justice
in a land where there's no justice at all ?
Who is really the
victim ? Or are we all the cause, and victim of it
all
?

You won't see the face 'til the eyelids drop
You
won't hear the screaming until it stops