Will You?

Every night the locals fight,wage war upon the street, it's f.t.m* and us & them with copper's on the beat,  
So many hidden agendas it's the calm before the storm, and so much Police corruption hides behind the uniform,  
But what d'you do? We ain't brand new, we're breaking every rule,we're Scousers on a mission see, here in Liverpool,  
As yella fella* crawling by out headed to the job, no doubt with much harassment there for Walton's Deli Mob*.  
Our Walton boys are soldier's, and this shit I can't condone,  
In the last decade alone we've buried three of Walton's own,  
First was Jamie Kelly, known as Bumper to his peer's, then his best friend Mash, was also doa in just 3 years,
Last was Adam Egan, in a turf war no man wins, I wonder when our Police force will atone for all their sins? Or will they just politely day goodnight?  
As we walk around in ignorance, though they tell me that it's bliss, it ain't the chances we f*cked up but the one's that we did miss,  
That cone to haunt me daily like some huge and unpaid debt, that keeps me shackled to the past with anger,pain,regret,  
An ill wind it's been blowing,seems to follow me around, never losing sight of me, like some f*cked up bloodhound,  
That does direct its rage at me,it's volatile at best, who's aim and goal's to seek me out and lay my ass to rest,  
Still... I remain a soldier, fight my battles with much ease, I'd rather die upon my feet than live upon my knees,  
So before you draw conclusion take in everything I've said,cause this life it is real precious, and you'll be a long time dead.  
So take a good look at me,but don't do as I do,d'you really wanna end up like me, being a raging junkie too?  
With track marks up & down your arms and never find a vein, I've been losing my religion since I found that Crack Cocaine,  
Never go to Church on Sunday, cause I'm too busy trying to score, but there's still one fact and I won't retract, Crack ain't worth dying for,  
As it's locked me in a prison, and it's made of me a slave, now my eyes are dark and sunken and I've one foot in my grave,  
As the good Lord whispers to me, just so softly in my ear," Come on my child there's so much more for you than doing gear,  
The talents you were given, but you wasted every time, you could have been somebody with your writing, it's a crime,  
But you you are the master of your destiny it's true, why don:t you grab this second chance that I am offering you?  
Before it fades and dwindles and it really ain't no joke, to stand and watch ya whole damn life go up in that Crack smoke,  
And you end up being a victim in a life cut out for mugs, as you're on the corner every night, and you sell yourself for drugs,  
So the moral of this story as does come with every high, there's a come down round each corner, and the urge for you to die,  
So should I slay my demons single handedly tonight, or err on the side of caution, in this rather dangerous plight?  
Or will I just politely say goodnight?