By: Marc A. Turner -
Copyright©2004
I heard a voice from across the room...
and caught a glimpse of gold on blue
I heard the news reporter say...
it’s doubtful he’ll pull through
I heard the cries from family
as they held each other tight
I heard a gasp... from everyone,
when they announced he lost his fight
I heard the radio crackle
with shaken voices filled with fear
I heard the noise of silence...
when there’s nothing more to hear
I heard the beating of my heart...
like distant warning drums
I heard his voice from long ago...
say... take it as it comes
I heard a cheer and someone said
they got the perp in cuffs
I heard that TV preacher say
they treated him too rough
I heard a stranger mumble I know him,
he would never do those crimes
I heard his criminal history...
arrested only 19 other times
I heard the stories and the tales
I heard the talk from different sorts...
sending rumors all around
I heard the cries for punishment...
echo through the justice hall
I heard the tears of Heroes...
as they replayed that final call
I heard one more sound...
it will never leave my mind
I heard the cutting of the stone...
as they chiseled one more line
I heard the stone cutters...
as they taped out a little frame
I heard the grinding of the granite...
as they added... one more name
I heard him say... he’d done this
I heard him... as if confessing,
there are just too many lines
I heard him as he finished
and polished down the stone
I heard him say... just to himself,
I heard that it will happen...
and all play out again too soon
I heard that on the stone...
there will always be more room
I heard... as long as there are Heroes
who stand the Thin Blue Line
There will always be a need...
to cut the stone... just one more time...
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