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(with apologies to Bob Dylan)

George M. Zimmerman killed poor Trayvon Martin
With a gun that he twirled around his fat trigger finger
On a Florida street in broad fucking daylight
And the cops were called in but his weapon left with him
As they sent him home without a drive to the station
And booked George M. Zimmerman for absolutely nothin’
But you who minimize it’s race and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.

George M. Zimmerman who at twenty-eight years
Owns a semiautomatic pistol
With a concealed weapons permit to protect him
And a Stand Your Ground law on the books in Florida
Foretold his deed with a call on his cell phone
And swear words and sneering and his tongue it was snarling
In a matter of minutes his victim he was stalking
But you who philosophize it’s not race and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.

Trayvon Martin was a boy in his hoodie
He was seventeen years old and liked to play like most children
Who carried his ice tea and shook his new bag of Skittles
And never called out to the man with the gun
And didn't look cross-eyed at the man with the gun
Who just ambled down the streets of his city
But filled some stranger’s fears on a whole other level
Got killed by a shot, lay slain by a bullet
That sailed through the air and tore a hole right through him
Doomed and determined to kill all that is gentle
And he never done nothin' to George M. Zimmerman
And you who philosophize it’s not race and criticize all fears
Take the rag away from your face
Now ain't the time for your tears.

In the mythos of balance, the hacks pronounced their fairness
To show that all's equal and the media’s on the level
And that no stone in the rubble goes unturned or advanced
And that even the victim gets properly vetted
Once that the cops have bagged him and tagged him
And that blaming the victim has no top and no bottom
Spare not the person who was killed for no reason
Who just happened to be treadin’ on George without warnin'
And George spoke through his gun, most loud and disturbing,
And handed out justice for the crime of bein’ so black
The right to bear arms has got downright insane
So, you who philosophize it’s not race and criticize all fears
Bury the gun deep up your ass
For now's the time for our tears.

Anyone out there who is a musician or knows a musician who'd like to record this and put it up on Youtube, be my guest...just be sure to give credit to me and my writing partner, the good Zimmerman.

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