Best of the luck to you with the Black Beauty

If we could scatter intricacies or let them billow,   echo billow. If our intricate needles could lift the low of nudges.    If ghetto melancholia were the altar and salve if evaluation   meant understanding dangle and banner and a whole green    star the shooter he was beautiful he was larchmont he was    my father come back to even the score he was anyone they    couldn’t afford for the commercial or the program and me and dramamine        and the confidential smile between victim and suitor he didn’t pull he didn’t        wear a tuxedo he didn’t choke on his own blood this is a song for the ruthless      and there is no innocent music