A Reach and Twitch
by Michael Doyle

A hand reaches out and twitches
Held out toward the unseen switches
As a life comes and then is gone
As easy as a light turned off and on

We come into this life crying
Screaming out for more and trying
Hoping for the attention we needed
And crying a little louder if not heeded

Do you hear me holler (holler)
Just trying to earn a dollar (dollar)
Looking for some scratch to call my own
When you die on the street you're on your own

Down on the Lower East End
it's hard to tell a soldier from a friend
We scramble to make it feel reverent
Because the truth is we don't know different

A dollar is a dollar, no matter how earned
Life doesn't get better than crash and burned
Crawling out from the wreckage is your fantasy
There will be no good coming from the likes of me

Do you hear me holler (holler)
Just trying to earn a dollar (dollar)
Looking for some scratch to call my own
When you die on the street you're on your own

I've heard that some come to earnestly worship
Me and my kind, we're just looking for relationship
Trying our best to make some kind of name
While our pointed fingers hold ourselves to blame

I see your gun as you point it at me
I accept the outcome fatalistically
What is, simply is, as it's meant to be
I die for myself, no gang is dying for me

Do you hear me holler (holler)
Just trying to earn a dollar (dollar)
Looking for some scratch to call my own
When you die on the street you're on your own

The corner boys shuffle for the pennies down
While those with balloons wear death's jester crowns
No one ever gets out of this alive or whole
The struggle lives as it leaves a mark on our souls

I spent my life with my world burning on fire
There is no escape from this dark-winged desire
Death comes like that phantasm that we fear
Embraced in the arms of the God others revere

Do you hear me holler (holler)
Just trying to earn a dollar (dollar)
Looking for some scratch to call my own
When you die on the street you're on your own

With a swish, snitch, out goes my light
Shots fired brings my end of night
There's no one left to tell my tale
The worth of life has grown permanently stale

Will anybody cry for my lost soul?
With my last prayer, the Devil's taken control
In the end, all of us sinners hear his call
Isn't this temptation how Eden began its fall? 

Do you hear me holler (holler)
Just trying to earn a dollar (dollar)
Looking for some scratch to call my own
When you die on the street you're on you're own

(c) July 9, 2024   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved