He stepped outside candidOne pop, he was on the groundBut he wasn't wearing red pajamasNo one grabbed him or held his handBut someone held the cameraAs his eyes took a final panAll he saw were strangers andSpectacles of the sceneStrived to live as a manBut dying as a child, a teenWe all return to these statesOn any given dayVulnerable, confused, scaredWanting to be told we will be okayThe killers were coldThe street was colderHis body was nextAs his eyes diluted wideHe was looking for a lullabyTo sing him to his restNo one offered Capo a song