[Tokolosh]

Buzzkill

i used to think that rappers had it figured out...
brass monkey, st. ides, old english and guinness stout.
once a man, twice a boy, with a choice of vice--a voice of spite.
not enough poisons to pick to enjoy this life.
then i thought suicide was a suburban myth.
i couldn't see my own hands being the ones i'm murdered with.
that is until i traveled this world a bit.
i understand now...if i lose my nerve i'll get the girl to do it.

she heard the music but preferred the person. she's worth it.
the only one i let behind the curtain to work with.
pushing buttons and playing with levers.
we'll stay together as long as i'm honest in my songs.
radio suckers never play this.
they're scared shitless of dismissing clear channel playlists.
poorly developed, yet, highly advanced.
the black music intertwined with a white man's line dance.
it's not lonely on top i'm kept busy with shivers and cold shakes.
sitting on snow banks, waiting to be delivered some soul mates.
so i weight lift and test my faith on several levels.
build my body until they send me an empty face with a head of devils.
my breath resembles the smell of flowers yanked from
life and placed in a vase that sits and wilts and rots and dies in the name
of grave mistakes that we all make.
we all make believe we're getting by while treating ourselves wrong.
throw me a reindeer-john-letter-party and i'll be there with bells on.
hell spawned some iffy calls in city hall.
they still got the gall to blame the vitriol on biggie smalls!
from strip malls to strip clubs they slip drugs
into the drinks that kids love...tell us to drink up and get buzzed!
this is the buzz kill. jump into the saddle.
emerge from the dust and kicked up in the uphill battle
with my guns drawn and sword out. point 'em toward the court house.
i sort out words from my war torn mouth.
i disassociate the actions with their meanings
on some "ends justify the means" mentality. plus, i'm bleeding.
give me a band-aid, band that can't play,
a fan base with hearing aids and a voice like a hand grenade.
i'll pull the wool over their vision, pull the pin and push it in 'em,
using women as a pin cushion--a super villian
with some war paint and jokes done in poor taste.
we'll see who laughs last...all the way to foreign banks.
i was b-boying in my former body, singing all the songs at parties.
now i'm like, "don't let nobody through the door in the hotel lobby."
i'd wear armani if they endorsed me
so people who are poor can rob me then forcefully sex me up.
color me confused when they paint issues black and white.
resuscitate their gray matter right back to life.
it's is my destiny. she wants me. she beckons.
she left me for dead but death didn't want no sloppy seconds.
"hughhhhh!" i'm certified fresh! i freedom kiss the french for their political dissent.
like moi. i do it with tongue this time, and take that bovine blood out your wine,
and take that statue back to the lab it was created at.
your huddled masses yearning to breathe free? take them back.
your homeless tempest-tost to me? take them back.
the u.s.a. has cracked.

SAGE FRANCIS
A Healthy Distrust - 2005