Message to the Ghetto Man

Here in Jungle City, the lion never sleeps.

It's your mind and you're all alone in the ghetto,

scribbling out your dreams on crumpled paper,

writing just about every unlined detail of your

life in big, black ink. After all, it's more than

strange when there's no clock on the wall and

only you hear the ticking sound.

To you, in it's own surreal way, it's almost

atomic how your feelings implode from within,

as the deafening sounds of silence make such a

loud, internal noise.

It's all so lonely but, then again, you know you

are in a one man band now so the loneliness doesn't

surprise you.

And, even though the cracks on the sidewalk cannot

guide you, you methodically count them all, crossing

the streets of your broken dreams and reading the signs.

Green - Go - Stop - Red and all of the colors read you.

It seems that the "stop-red" sign is reading your pulse

today, making your blood boil and the "walk-go" arrows

keep pointing you back to the lion. And, as you well know,

it's the lion who never sleeps.

Hey, can't you hear your own brother who's in heaven

calling out to you? He's saying, "Look bro, the ghetto is

only an attitude, dude." Somehow I think you're thanking

him again because he's the one who has carried you all of

your life