hot air hangs like a dead man
from a white oak tree
people sitting on porches
thinking how things used to be
dark night
dark night
the neighborhood was changing
strangers moving in
a new boy fell for a local girl
when she made eyes at him
she was young and pretty
no stranger to other men
but doors were being locked at night
old lines were drawn again
I thought things like that
didn't matter anymore
I thought all the blood
had been shed long ago