THE FIRST SHALL BE LAST, AND THE LAST SHALL BE FIRST

Grabbing empathy like shoppers in a mall riot.

Scratchy records in a third world tin, and sheet metal building, Hooked up to a car alternator dem' doin' whaat day can fo da soundd. chickens are there as well. Reggae on Sunday, muddy like after the rain. A whip over a grave, prayers over a lowered body outside of the line of shacks. Mixed up impressions lay on me like my second hand clothes; my mind that is sweating like my body. Heat for dis Yannkay bowy. A grave and than a meal for those left behind her to eat still. And their all dressed up like a sixties sound they play perhaps, you know how rude bowys wore black suits, pencil thin ties and stingy brim hats? What do I know about any of it though? All I have is the perceptions I carry with me, and the card of being human. Like Heroin sweetly smacked in Toronto. Don't I just know about things to do on a ice day? North threw your veins without reason. All for what you can get in a season.