Everyone knew his street name was Apple Pie,
And three of the witnesses refused to testify,
That he had shot three of their friends at the dance,
And now they wanted to talk to him at the first chance.
These groups and others were known to the police,
But now with no evidence, they had to release,
Apple Pie, they feared but just couldn’t convict,
Justice of the streets would be easier to predict.
Apple Pie was in two minds about being released,
His chances of a long life had surely decreased,
Though his lawyers elated, praised the prosecution,
Though they knew Apple Pie was now nearer execution.
Apple Pie too knew who wanted to shoot him dead,
Just because he shot three of their friends they said,
They wanted to kill him and more to even the score,
No hard feelings about the mess, the guts and the gore.
Apple Pie couldn’t ask the police for protection,
They’d want to know about his gang and recollection,
And get him to admit about that mass murder,
It looked like he’d head for the US or maybe further.
And what about his girlfriends -- birds of a feather?
And the five kids who would never know a father?
Of course he and none of his friends had one either,
He’d move to New York, lay low and take a breather.