I cast a sidelong glance at myself / all panic mutters like mantra butterfly
and takes cover in the soft melancholy of rewilding instincts / reluctant
to admit your silence will not protect you the shouting grows simple and pulses with the estate stamped slow red
you get a percentage you get to detonate you save your tone
hide your tone learn to trust crazy better than safe and neither can face the other and unchange
Is it daddy left home or
daddy went home
When daddy came home, we'd been practicing for so long we lost track of verbs and Afrofuturism became another social narcotic plus the clothing brand I started, slapping faces of dead jazz on cotton and sold out in Tokyo
