Falstaff

The Sound crying urgent through the night
Crying X from a nigga’s horn
Thing called, thing called Jazz
Don the Bird is the bird crying now
Coarse singing in the background
Piano Man say dip dip, da da
Don the bird is outside
She has lonely eyes, Donna has
She smiles at me a lot
Christ the Redeemer
Christ Redeemer
Hallelujah
Music, dear lord, is played so coarsely in my heart that at night I cry in pain for tears
For (valley?) enough to turn my already bruised cheeks black
Black is the password, my lord, please open up the gates of heaven and let me in
Let me in so I can see my grandmother
Pearly, Pearly, oh my Lord, where is them pearly gates?
White women let me in but I don’t feel heaven there like I thought I would
And the song keeps playing
Christo Redentor
Why do these men pace about sayin “pain” in their drunken and staggered walks?
Why do women hide behind their masquerade mask, these powder goddesses?
Hoes blessed with enunciating (pose?) of respected new life
The beer is getting warm
My moves softens
My heart aches
Perhaps I will be free