Who Then

When does it become your problem?

Chunk goes the middle aged station wagon stepping on the gas
Driving over hazards and sharing ghetto lined streets with trash
Broken dragged down past soaking up the mellowing midnight ash
With hands attached to persuasive clients tolling tapped pockets

Weary eyes blink in bright broken lights when money goes chink chink
Heard a clang clang before this wagon hiccupped and went bang bang
Kids dropped through their chest bloodying Mom’s child to lasting rest
Just another passerby with strife who cares about that life

Right?!

Not MY problem…