WE ARE LOSING CONTROL
When I hear the drivel coming through
my street, I know that we have simply
given it all away, rolled over and let it
go. Like nigger boys on an old game
bicycle, or delinquents, flipping their
blades at the chain-link fence, they
stand to take it : but we have to hear.
Tiny little funny blue cars with megaphone
mufflers, as if that wasn't an oxymoron
they're too stupid to get. The radio plays
some jig from WRAP, heavy on the
bass, and worse on the race. Nothing
goes down easy, and everything goes
down twice, here, (hear), in this
other ghetto.
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