The Game

Walls keep them from the game. Eyes peer over the barbed wire. The ref uses his stripes to keep them lame. They peek over the wall as the ball flies higher. But a few players don’t side with the law And hope to play with the stranger’s outside, So they pick up a saw…saw…saw And with the brick they collide. The privileged patterned shirt cannot bind the spirit, Cannot stop the playing of the true game. To the ignorant, well, they can stick it! No matter what we play we are all the same.