even if he or she is drowning in deNile.
We stand near lamp posts
and boast of ventures read,
but we never dwell
on the reason why we, colored
the devil, red.
Our smiles are scened, then viewed
through infrared structures, they eye
our good buys,
our good guys, they're all dead.
We stop traffic. We're not shallow;
We will never allow
Our sacred vow, to be broken.
The Hollow Daze did not faze anyone.
In the beginning, they were alone.
Like sand particles being lifted up a straw,
they walked with their heads laid low;
they feared the law.
Constantly harassed because their jackets were leather,
They said "What the....."
And began wearing the feathers of the duck.
Goose down.
Loose talk surrounds his mound:
"Brothers on the block gave Curtis a pound"
For making Def sounds with the beat box,
Jersey cops pull us over.
To try to slam the locks,
they throw West
In front of Indian, instead of Americans.
Call them, Red.
Call them from the dead
And tell them you've been broken
by the law,
the hunters of Sitting Duck.
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