Post by carolinem on Mar 3, 2007 15:29:20 GMT -5
A poem written by Kenny in 1998
Injustice
Imprisoned on Death Row, running out of time
Robbed of my freedom, my life's no longer mine.
I was unjustly tried and convicted.
Physical and psychologically the injustice was inflicted.
Now sentenced to die, to an inhuman fate.
While outside the prison, American supporters await.
They will gather in groups, in cruel celebration
In vindictive excitement and virulent jubilation
They care not and are unconcerned, That I am an innocent man.
To them its just a sporting event and they're just eager sports fans.
Their excitement will mount at the appointed time of my death
As "Old Sparky" the chair steals my least breath.
With stentorian exultation, they will raise voice in great cheer.
Celebrating my execution,
like they would celebrate New Year.
Injustice
Imprisoned on Death Row, running out of time
Robbed of my freedom, my life's no longer mine.
I was unjustly tried and convicted.
Physical and psychologically the injustice was inflicted.
Now sentenced to die, to an inhuman fate.
While outside the prison, American supporters await.
They will gather in groups, in cruel celebration
In vindictive excitement and virulent jubilation
They care not and are unconcerned, That I am an innocent man.
To them its just a sporting event and they're just eager sports fans.
Their excitement will mount at the appointed time of my death
As "Old Sparky" the chair steals my least breath.
With stentorian exultation, they will raise voice in great cheer.
Celebrating my execution,
like they would celebrate New Year.