Dwell like a Ghost, Black Angel, Dwell like a Ghost

Cleopatra wishes she was Cleopatra
Newscaster wishes she was Cleopatra (peace talks/ toss-up)
Cleopatra wishes she wasn't on these news
like that heist in the revolution (blues gunned out of call and response, just call, and call again, and call a gun, and call again)
Or that her patron wasn't
Coping mechanism/cloaks him in ashen cross window-- To enlighten, you must start with that which is itself lucid (natural black inventions)

The noose of two integers working toward a third Cleopatra/Cleopatra/Elizabeth Taylor/Pam Grier
who were never strangers, who had 'ever heard footsteps crossing a redundant bridge and felt it as a welcomed trespass or like being pacified by company or wondering 'why wasn't I myself earlier?' or discovered for
The sultriness before a thunder/rain of where I've been kept, calling/ or new humans come from the precipice and take to the center for salt/I mean for traction/ice age comes/salt gives you traction, nigga

one man said to the other lovingly, and black/ blood rubbed in salt is how they say we crossed these waters with our tantrums on their knack for sounding happy,

into the safety of plantation candy cotton, the fabric of our (slogan) lives, is how they say we crossed Cleopatra with an actress as if any classified diva could give us a divine sense of the street we might street walk in calling the immortal terms of our need to forget this arrivance-- which salt we tasted, which granulated wish-fulfillment tested its villain on denial, which section in the Freud, Oedipal complex or childlike I thought I was a maiden, cosmic rage or cosmic celebration, say something about how the I is more relaxed when hunted:

I've been calling it sound grammar

The way a singer has to sing without using words

to get some other languages together

and when you catch her crying

and when you catch her believing her tribe is scattered across the looping echoes of a soft machine