the hooded people

In the crowded street I see

The hooded people walking by

They don't talk to people

They are living on their own

They walk with bow heads

They are afraid of the sun

Maybe they don't want to be recognized

In the crowded street afraid somebody will

They carry with them bags of flowers

Way out of the outfit they wear on the street

The crowd don't pay much attention

They are busy watching the parade

In the crowded street I see

The hooded people walking by

They are in a hurry to get it done

The walking wolves crying in the parade

The sound of explosions

The crowded street turn loose

People young or old run everywhere

Afraid of death afraid of the pain

In the crowded street I see

The detectives open fire

The hooded people drop dead one by one

There is nothing left to be said