In this tale by Jimmy R Coleman we learn of relationship between the KKK and poison oak.
Sunday, why you’re so complicated for me, twilight? Waiting on the planet to turn to me, dark side…If loving you’s a felony now, then I’m a renegade, riding, trying to read the Comics ain’t easy ’til you dive in swimming pools.
Imposing, just not wild. Easy on the hair-waving. Well, that’s what I thought before refreshing myself. Look how wrong you can be… How…
It’s back. Dig the latest jazz mixtape from the Star’s publisher man.
Got questions with no answers. Can’t help me out, I need a friend, I’m losin’ faith in this world of sin. Tryna make ends meet with a week, no sleep; it’s like a cycle that never ends. I can’t contend with no handlin’, I can’t take care of no grown man — all by myself, cryin’ for help, but won’t get saved by no Superman. All comes down to the mighty dollar, greed and lust, abusin’ power. Clock is tickin’, hour after hour makes me wanna throw my hands and holler.
I got bad coordination, stuck a pencil in my eye…I can hardly wait to get back home. Why is everybody gettin’ paranoid? I’s only havin’ fun. Scumbags and superstars, tell me your names; I’ll make a bet you’re both the same. And I can see my lifetime pilin’ up! I can see the days turn into nights! I can see the people on the street, open those windows up a hundred floors below me. Pilin’ those houses up. pilin’ them higher, higher, higher! I can feel them swayin’ back and forth. Building it higher, higher–This tower’s leaning over!
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