Left To Burn

Who is that, who trespass at this hour?
The thought renders my taste so sour
Must be a very foolish bloke
An airhead, and by the looks, very broke
Who does the broke bloke think he is, breaking into another man's abode
A brave move, and indeed very bold
The bold broke bloke, broke in, and stole from my travelled neighbour
But he was caught, beaten and every where was full of gore
Unfortunately a police station is not closeby
Might as well just burn him and get on with our lives
We can get petrol nearby
This is not a street where thieves survives

As if the bloke heard the word,
He raised his hands, as if to protest
(but)His eyes closed, as if in prayer
His lips opened, as if to speak
As he lay down, motionless, as if in death
But finally he whispered, "I am not a thief"
Well; thats what they all say
Even the last one, we burned far back in May
He did not give up, he whispered what sounded like;
"I am just a lowly plumber"
Well; we never thought very highly of him either
The bloke layed down,bloodied and defiled
With bottle inspired marks all over his body
Like a Christ about to be crucified
Then the baptism of petrol began
Time was not wasted; he was set ablaze
On and on he burned, as we all stood and gazed
I don't envy the bloke in this postion at all
Well, our work here is done
No need to stand and admire what we have done
No reason to even mourn

Just then, a lady ran in and exclaimed
In words that I could not explain
As she looked down at what was left of her brother (or lover I guess)
Liquids dropped down her eyes, like rain
"He was not a thief",she said "He was only fixing pipes there" she said
And so endless tears poured out her eyes uncontrollably
Holding his remains as if glue could fix
People tried to comfort the lady with words
Words; they thought might reduce the pain she felt
But naught would change...naught would change at all
Even Lazarus can not come back from this
And now, I have those wierd feelings;
The feeling that we burned an innocent bloke,
The feeling that this lady's heart is not the only one we broke,
we might never know the truth
But the thought renders my taste so sour
The bloke has left to face his judgment, and we are here to face ours