It's a letter to a friend that I think is making a mistake. Lyrics:

All I gotta do is fill the page with a pen.
like a sage, I’ve been sent.
 Even in the mafia they pray... On the innocent,
 and to God in the same day no regret.

Gotta balance guilt with something, I guess.
Got malice tilting nothing, you guess 
You wannabe a baller man? Nada, man- what a  mess
Hard to assess most people crack under stress, an I’m stressed out.

but still only guessing and I’m rooting for you, 
people will be messing up and shooting at you,
Look at me - I’m lookin at you
Turn around. They be stooping about to murder now.
Stupid enough to kill with rabid power

Instilling fear, pulling sig sauer. 
don’t wait till the hour comes
When the last thing you do is to cower.

You can do something now or…
Later, I guess. What I’m saying is probabilities against.
I’m not on the fence, man. I’ve been where you want to be, and I havent been the same since.

Peter Byam