I have a friend, he's tall thin, light complexion,
walks straight as a board, head held high,
as if he's trying to reach the sky
when ever I see him he's running, moving faster than the wind.
"I've gotta run" he always say
"I can't stop now, I can not stop,
I just dropped by for a mintue or two Honey,
I needed to see your face, can't stop going away
must hold a low profile, it's my style,
must keep moving, got no choice with the shit I do"
Let me help you I said,
"NO one can help me"
he backed up, he let go of my hand to disappear.
"comfortable when I run, you hear,
but thank you any how my dear,
when I run I am in control, I have my reason,
just know it ain't treason,
Honey no offense, I've got my rules"
Nothing cynical or mean about the way we talked,
although when ever I see him I found he had walked.
Having learned all the rules on the street from a purely legal standpoint
He didn't worry about AIDS, or STD's
still he did just what he pleased.
"I'm gonna die anyway what difference does it make how it happen, or when?"
Then he took my face into his hand, and I knew he cared,
"I gota go" All my pleading couldn't get him to stay.
I watched him walk down the stairs.
I watched him walk away into the night air, head held high, into the sky.
He couldn't, he wouldn't give in to me
street hardened seen it all. had it all done to him,
kept his distance needed his space, the streets was his sanctuary, in doors
he was insecure, couldn't stand being confined,
running helped him to beat the incredible feelings of insecuity
that paralyzed his alter ego.
He left that beautiful summer day and I ain't seen my friend no more.