Burst

Mama always told me
you jest can’t be that proud
of something that just natural
of being in that crowd.

But then ain’t life a bitch
and there’s those that still care
An’ I can’t face a life
with some thousand yard stare.

But us two here together
floating in our little bubble
I don’t know the colour of your skin and
I don’t know the places that you been

I’m the one lived my life
and I ain’t felt I’ve been
the man, the one, a scion
graced child of privileged skin

My head don’t sport no shades
of crowns or golden fleece
but those women there says
I can just hold my peace

But if we’s here together
floating in our little bubble
I don’t know the colour of your skin and
I don’t care the places that you been

So I’m the man raised up
so high so middle class
pale and schooled, a Gucci
issued free boarding pass

Don’t got that swag don’t feel
that sweet, I ain’t that grand
I feel I feel fucked over
I feel the grit under the hand

But we can be here together
floating in our little bubble
I don’t see the colour of your skin and
I don’t hear the places that you been

So I scream screw them all
I dare them to blow
I know my bubbles’ shine
ain’t just there for the show

So let’s screw them all
and we’ll fold us so tight
Curled up in our bubble
afloat high in d’night.

Well. At least it scans. Sort of…
On occasion of remembering I am da man.