I live on Channing Drive.

I've never been to the hood.

My world: green lawns and picket fences

Not smog air and littered streets.



I do not know the sudden screech

Or the "Bang! Bang!"

Of a drive-by shooting.



I am not lulled to sleep

By moaning of homeless drunkards,

The "Hey baby" of hookers on the corner.



Silver moonlight dances on my wall by night

Not red and blue flashes of a police car.

I greet you with "How are you?"

Not "Wuz up, yo?"



I don't slap hands with my neighbor

A firm handshake will do.

When I leave home, I don't lock my door.



I wear anything I want.

My gang colors are red and khaki.

For initiation, we tie knots,

Go on camping trips.



There is no gun beneath my coat

I do not carry a beeper.

I don't know anyone in jail.

Policemen don't phase me.



Does that make me a country boy?

Does that make me preppie?

Does that make me any less of a man than you?