The Seattle Star

Words are few I have spoken, I could waste a thousand years. Sunday Comics, words are token; come inside and catch my tears. You’ve been talking but, believe me, if it’s true you do not know.

Now they’re frightened of leaving it; everyone’s weaving it, Sunday Comics all the time…All through the day, I me mine.

The yam brought it out of the Sunday Comics, manipulated Bill Clinton with desires…24/7, 365 days times two, I was contemplatin’ gettin’ on stage just to go back to the hood see my enemies and say, “Man, where you when I was walkin’?”