trees provide the shadows
that blend within the sky
the moon hendered by the night 
no escape, it tries
a man runs through this night
his leather shoes burn hot
he himself a shadow
of the light, he's not
around the bend spins a truck
in chase of this man
headlight glare in avid search
for the man who ran
their beams flash him down
as he tries to duck away
into the dark he tries to hide
in the night to stay
stops the pursuing truck
out climbs a mess of voice
to find their man, their choice
the man of the night begins to shake
as the mob draws near
he knows of this mob
to him this mob is fear
the racous voices scatter
each holding their source of light
searching for a black man
in the darkest of the night
the beams are approaching way to close...

the black man begins to run
rapid shots fill the air
the bullets leave their gun
a slug slams into his thigh
and so he makes his fall
at that, he knows the final end
and yet he fights to crawl
there they find him huddled
"the black man who had run"
they were the "vigilante boys"
or otherwise known, "the klan"
they stood the man on his knees
whose struggle never quit
in front of him a fat man
in whose face he spit
at that, began his end
for the night who fought
all encircled around his body
so each could fire their shot

By Greg Jellick