Two words- Youth Crime.
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Fear is their friend,
as they hunt in packs,
scouting for their prey,
'cos it's something to do.
They carry their tools,
knives from the kitchen,
hiding them in their coats,
'cos it's something to do.
When they find thier prey,
they attack the poor thing,
Jeering,
Scaring,
Bullying,
'cos it's something to do.
Metal glints in the street lamps,
sounds of struggle,
a sharp gasp,
'cos it's something to do.
A powered wig judge,
his robe the colour of the blood on the pavement,
asks the question "why?"
'cos it's something to do.
