It’s a long way home and you only got them sweats, wearing. Like some kid out gym class tryna get a beef paddy before next period, but she short 10-cent so do you spot her? OJ at the ready. Another cold day in the city.
Shock turning the corner hitting you like a gust arresting your chest, lungs swelling with cold, dry air; a cough. Crying. Blurry vision like you ain’t gonna make it. Your shoe unties itself. One glove. You gave yourself one glove.
Push across. Turn up that Top Gun racket. Gun Boy firing off the beat. Pop and cold-wave fusion like we back a bit, but remember? This is where it still exists: anywhere. Be there:
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