The Detroition

by Zamounde the Footstepper

I'm picking up the pieces
Writing my last thesis
Wishing I could get this
Feeling again
That feeling of dreams growing up
Like standing at the peak of the Renaissance Tower
At my youngest hour
Full of no-fear power
To tumble at so high a feet
Dodging cops on their beat
Stealing what I needed to eat
Wanting like everyone else a treat
Getting kicked and beat
Number one lack/ someone to teach
Show me how to better myself
In the pit
I can't see it

Building up downtown/suburbians
Where I stand/ 1960 and before
Stuck outside an open door
Still standing on a wooden floor
Put down by a past thorn
Mothers scorn
Same ol' shoes worn
Dead but born
Who am I in a world unchoice
Loud but unheard voice
Screaming help me
Ready to throw down
With rich clowns
Stealing their rides
Taking what they buy
Telling truths but lies
Trying survive

Many die before my eye
Full in the sky
Is an unsat' spirit
Getting in me/you
Change the filter
The air is thick with madness/sadness
The surface is painted for the camera
Black & White in color
Boarded for the drive-by politician
Shooting us with law/restrictions
Working us from light to dark
Sick 'em dog "bark"
I got this feeling
Feeling like I want to fight
Fight Detroition
Let the truth begin
This is the end of the circle
It never stops spinnin'

The Detroition by Zamounde the Footstepper

© Copyright 1999. All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be duplicated or copied without the expressed written consent of the author.

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