I was accused... accused
For the things I never did.
They've never gave me enough time,
Time to speak out the side of mine.
I'm sentenced... sentenced
For I have no power nor wealth.
No one cares for what I really feel,
No one is willing to shutter the fence.
I can't do it to my friend, no, not only a friend I treat him as my brother.
No.... No I can't...
One miserable evening, to be exact, it was 24th of November
I came to his house. Yes... yes his name is Christopher Defensor
For I heard creepy sounds coming from his house.
Bang... bang.... bang
No... no! It was a gunshot! From a caliber 45
I Went to his house as fast as I could, I saw motorcycle running with the plate no. of HWA 0837
As I went to his house, I... I saw him lying on the floor with his bloody shirt,
With 3 shots: on his head, chest and the upper right shoulder.
To my surprise, people in our Village Mikata, came to witness.
They saw the gun at the back of me just three steps away.
A gun that I wasn't able to see, as I came to hug him and wipe his bloody face.
People from everywhere on the village, I heard them murmuring, whispering.
Saying i'm a MURDERER!
I tried to speak but no one listened; unlike Chris topher my friend, my brother.
Even his family. I told them the whole story: the motorcycle and its plate number.
But it doesn't exist, six-letter word I heard from them "A-B-S-U-R-D".