Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Concrete and Appleseeds

Plant your seeds and watch them grow
The streets serve as bouncers
The sidewalks paint over the dreams of our soil
The same sidewalks that support the hustlers
The cars with the booming bass that dance on painted white lines and pavement
Where dirty city kids spit and puke
Where blood spills on occasion
The corner where the bloods chill on occasion
Bared teeth reveal gold and silver
Necks are wheighed down by the afformentioned
That five letter slur flies around in more abundance than misquitos
There are no picnics
There are no barbeques
Those days are over
Now we worship our media
The newest single is awaited like christmas morning
Listen close enough and you hear the old days mourning
Freedom lies just out of reach, only one step closer
But we desire it not
Give me my Rich Boy and let me throw some d's on that bitch.