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when I was young I use to see things
mama use to tell me don’t tell stories
stop fantasizing don’t hum no harmonizing
she took the stars from my sky
spit wiped the gleam from my eyes
in arts and crafts trying to get back my craft
it was hard to be creative even if I tried
lord knows I cried though I found relief
in the thought of suicide
my best course of action was to stay alive
people use to think I was all shuck and jive
until I started to spit off the top timing
my bars with a stop watch I had to find refuge
with a poet inside and an artist to hide
going down the highway your thumbs out
going my way I’m in the danger zone
no child’s play salt and pepper it’s my season
on the down low high treason about to
do this again by the felt of my pen
you’ll feel impelled by the time I get to the end
the final nail made me scream thank God
it was a dream now she’s ringing my phone
knocking on my door like a dope fiend
should I let her in or should I let her fall
change my number and just let her call
no longer under her jurisdiction making
my own decisions I’m going for it all
