Everyone who is drinking, is already [bad word] or sleeping. Everyone who isn't, is just too political to talk to. Another summer evening, and the city's barely breathing, it just ain't the same just ain't the same without you.

There ain't no magic in materials, the magick's in our words, that we whisper in each other's ears to make diamonds outta dirt. There ain't glory in the silken things, the glory's in the hurt, that can split your skin from end to end, down to the center of the earth.

I wasn't joking bout my burial, the backyard's  where i prefer. But, my landlord wouldn't like that, i gotta own a backyard first. So, i'll keep singing y'all these spirituals, and pray it lifts the curse, that keeps me chasing ghosts of  dreams from my funeral to birth, in reverse, in reverse, in reverse.