The Rules

Good Luck.

"When your window of oppurtunity comes....what will you do?" - Tim Ingland

The hustle and bustle of city grittied my shufflin feet, Titties and muscles deplete my ego that clutters the street
Bubbly sheets of soapy water on washed cars, Some dumb bum mumblin of Christ and a lost cause
I *coughed* paused, halted at the rattle of a trashbin, Brain addled by the shadowed prattle of assassins
.. But damnit, I'm getting ahead of myself, All those sugary donuts can't be good for my health
A 6'5", big guy, who's wrist I, saw take a quick dive, Behind a dumpster once or twice, the glint, *bright*
Of a knife butt, the other guy jumped like Jehosaphat, Tha giant pawed his balls and stopped to stroke his sack
I could smell sweat and arousal, hell-bent in a town full, Of nig.gers and sp.icks, injuns and ch.inks, it's doubtfull
That if I pick a fight I'll live the night to tell a bit about it, So i lit a light, and spit a nice "It sounds a little crowded!"
The mean mugs of these thugs slumped to fealty, I smelled cock, shell shocked, they whispered "realty"
The smaller rat hollered that his daddy's a landlord, And since birth, he's been cursed with standing a sandstorm
Each brown speck contaminating the virtue, Of every bright lily white virgin they pursue
I caught the drift of his symbolism like an avalanche, That won't stand a nig.ger's magic stick, fuck a Bagger Vance
"Me and this muli, it's our duty for 50 cents, To do this unruly in mutilant increments"
How could I argue with that? But I was taken aback, My jaw had fallen to slack, cuz tha girl wasn't black?!
But on closer inspection, you could notice the tan, And the curves that disturb first, then focus a man
To commiting a sin which I'm forced to pardon, And I'm no nig.ger lover to exhort tha warden
About the injustices they percieve from the class, Of good clean white folks that love kickin' that ass
Why, just the other day a darkie spit on my shoes, He might have been shining 'em, but I still give him abuse
And these two, they're grown enough to know this 'girl' is just that, But in a year or two, I'll hear a few of those she cussed at
Complaining that black bitches make horrible hookers, Only good from the back, those fat, deplorable lookers
But this ..this child..eyes as blue as my wife's, Eyes that strike like my son's life..he's due on the 9th
And for a minute, I witnessed such an image of pain...She clutched at her vagina, tried to diminish the stain
On a new white skirt, now ripped and tattered..stripped and battered, as she limped and stammered
About how little Tommie needs a story to sleep..But..no. I've got alotta glory to reap.
So we shook hands, said "Look, man, jus go about your business" Turned around, ignored the sound, forgot what I had witnessed
The blood, and the skin and the tint of the scabs...Until I shrug..then I wince from the glint of my badge

*Police Record, 1952*