The Run"It’s the middle of the day, I know some are home,and they see and hear the wrong that’s going on.A Black man is being hunted on their street,That’s why no one calls in help for me.I hear the shots, three times I’m struck.I try and try, but I can’t get up.My head is lifted toward the sky, No pain, I’m riding the runner’s high.
-D.B. Mays
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