Here we go, stand by

Both White and Black were capitalized, for the hydraulics of the recording contract. Not a 'Work-for-Hire' agreement, but it never overtly mentions reparations, mules or mines or ache or what's mine. These things don't come under emphasis, their absence is relentless. Instead, a straight, chronological telling of dates and sums. Paranoid, with moments of stylistic clarity that were practically tunes you could whistle to. "The territory shall be the universe" was my favorite onelunged moment of exile and excess. To take the archetype where I was kept and really really let it be landless. Cliche in a sinister way like a high-profile divorce waiting to happen for the tabloids.

Sometimes I say if I could just get away from the man
He'd go straight sure as fate for it never is too late for a man

But no one was who he seemed to be in the first place, not in the studio, not on the street, least of all at home.
So on the way back from a sad party
I signed Black and White in cursive in the place of my certifiable name, like a calling from both sides of the Apollo
The apology the poll the pose. Vogue-ing dandy, doting sophisticat, never leave home without a pen and a rhythm. And once the deals meet the page they had better be ready to
break. Honor is such a nervous condition afterall, neurotic, not like Woody Allen, like the mafia neurotic from the groove between love(sincerity) and fear(sincerity) and power(your share) is letting go