Strollin to the podium...recolections reflection of time...
Should I start off with he was great?...should I start off wit he was mine?
Questions engluf my mind...and guilt raids my thought...
A quick glance up at my wife...the tears simmer from disdraught...
"He lived and died by the morals he was taught"...

And I brace to deliver...inside my mind the idea came to spark...
"He was a good kid"...should i reveal it or keep it sustained in the dark...
"A lota respect he had"...Yet i knew this wasnt true...
"Never scared to follow the ways he knew"...suspensful sounds seein me through...
"Neva thought of himself"...a voice inside my head:nah he was thinkin of you...

"People ask me who he was...and i tell them the kid was the purest"...
I shoulda said man...critizin my words like diamonds by jewelist...
"Well truth is"...my voice chokes;come on jus get through this...
"Well what i shoulda said was"...no time to recover...
How could i end a life...and still make love wit his mother...
"Vince wasnt bad he jus some immoral decisions were chosen"...
My devilish shadow cast before the ground stands frozen...
"Most of you know...youve all been accustomed to the life"...

A closed casket sits before me...face accidently devastated by knifes...

"Well um he broke our code...and we all know the result"...

The glances turned to hate...mob man viewin his own accult...

He now sleeps wit tree roots...overlookin a valley...
Never witness his last image...cause he was retorn in an alley...

"Its sad really cause Vince was my only one"...

I couldn't finish...no justification for killin my son...