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16
There’s a tale told by few
Those who can relate
Talk about it too
They call it back in the day
They call it the way it used to be
A time many miss and wish
Before analoging into digital
Gone straight after winding
The road when music was
Good for the soul like food
Cooked on a stove by loving
Hans palms stuck together
Praying to keep it all together
Then the flood came they
Called it crack cocaine it
Did a bad, bad thing
First it fed the streets
There was something on
Everyone’s stomach
No one went to bed hungry
Then the children started
Crying, “I’m a motherless child”
Apron strings broke in two
prayer hands disappeared
A beautiful day turned to fear
On the face of communities
Everywhere it’s just an old
Tale told by those who were
There sitting somewhere
Leaning against Old dusty
side rails Watching it pass
