 There's this darkness looming, following me in stores, in alleys, as I round the corner to my street, between the block and the lights, I have no idea who's really meant to protect and serve. The drug dealers and the cops are the same, we all just wanna make a living, we all just wanna make it home, but when thugs carry guns cause police carry guns, who keeps me safe from them both, firing from the hip out of fear, playing cops and robbers, but we all just wanna make it home, right? This officer straps on his vest, dealer stakes out the block, we pray for protection from what lurks in the night, knowing the system cleans up its messes without mandatory reporting, or trial, or indictment, or second thought, something's got to give, police aren't the root cause to issues in our community, but who's paying the price? Black lives, trust falling into despair with no safety net, can reform really heal a broken system, or will we continue to watch their broken badges through our broken windows?