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By coujeaux Date: 2003 May 09 Comment on this Work [[2003.05.09.23.13.25135]] |
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I said he was white, he called me black; there ain't no takin' it back, my brother, Colorblind enough to see past differences each time we hung around each other. Summer of Love or something else; jivest joker in a deck of these suicide kings, I chased what I thought was forever while they pursued more momentary things. Now we runnin' uptown, tops and guards down, ready for anything else they got, Not that we ever cared what anyone had declared about the trouble we brought. I hear wags rolling tongue about how when you're young nothing really matters, And each generation behind is the apocalypse redefined, the maddest of hatters. I served so many in need, quite the guardian indeed, where others feared tread, Just how strong is your glue when the heat licks at you, overflowing you in dread? I climbed above the walls of so-called know-it-alls to face whatever required care, For you'll never defy the odds quite as when the wrath of gods announces a dare. Resurrect a lover, sure; entertain a crew, impure; many hats, tilted rakishly aside, This ain't a halo on my head, it's a ring of skins I shed, worn for souveniring pride. Oh, those times are gone but I could go on and on about us; her and him and me, They weren't so tight but one entertained me every night, never saw quite a three. She and I, so unified; as I ended, thus I cried, but the memories still draw a smile, As for the men, I chuckle now and then; it was about our posse, chasing all the wile. |