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to all those homeys on skid row
who once had a gift for something grand
like shooting marbles or spitting seeds
like you I am marked "whipping boy"
only I got a ticket out, and that's the Word.
I know the names of things. I know their magic.
I can turn it back at them, tie them in knots.
they know this and they can't touch me.
who gave me this blessing?
it came from the heart of the world.
don't be timid, go there and be refreshed.
love, light, compassion...
our enemy is the absence of these things.
so you homeys with missing teeth and twitching eye,
you humble and lame, I say come over here.
we are the inheritors as Jesus said. |
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