Help.

I saw him lying there with a bullet in his head.
He was brown bread, dead.
I panicked and from him i ran.
What am i a mouse or a man.
I came to my senses and to him went back.
It was raining so over him i put my waterproof mac.
His stiff body to the touch cold.
On him rigor mortis had took its hold.
Who is he, why is he shot, i think i better ring the cops.
From his slender nose blood slowly drops.
The cops arrived and i told them what i knew.
That i was walking home and this drastic sight came into view.
They questioned me as if i was the killer.
Yes they thought i was the blood spiller.
They took me to the station and locked me up.
They brought me hot tea in a dirty teacup.
They said for this i will pay.
And for a long time they'll lock me away.
I pleaded i was innocent.
But on blaming me they were hell bent.
The crooked bastards got their way.
And in a tiny prison cell i now sadly lay.