Hey, aren't you
That son-of-a bitch
Whose mother jumped the wall.
Yea! You know who you are.
I spotted you hanging on the corner
Through the windshield of my car.
Were you talking conspiracy,
And planning your next job;
Dealing girls, drugs and guns,
Looking goth macabre.
You know who you are.
I saw you look right back at me
Through the side window of my car.
You were talking to your buddies,
I couldn't hear what you said,
I'm convinced it wasn't good,
By the tatoos on your head.
Yes, you know who you are.
You're still idley standing there,
In the rearview of my car.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem