Full-grown Harlem lady

Eyes as black as night

If caught in a situation

Her decision would be right

Full-grown Harlem lady

Welcomes every child

If one makes a wrong decision

They will be reconciled

It was a bad day.

Mysterious,

Big Joe had a bad idea.

He was going to ruin our street.

Big Joe is a bad man.

My name is Peaches,

I am not very fond of Big Joe,

I think my mother deserves better than a man with dough.

He is selfish, impatient, and acts like a child,

Even though he helps people, and he has a very big smile.

In the morning, I open my eyes

Sit up and stretch, and let out small cries.

I wiggle my toes, and crinkle my nose,

And get out of bed to the sound of rooster crows.

I slip on my jeans, and my long furry coat,

They are dangerous and frightening,

Like a strike of lightning.

You have to watch out,

Because they can black you out.

You try to hold back,

Until the police come attack.

Watch out they’re coming,

His music will dance around you

And pour into your heart

They will run around the rooms

And jump around the walls

He will bake his notes in emotions

For you to taste

You will never want to leave

His house of soul

Out of my mouth

Comes a beautiful song

All of Harlem

Sings along

In the church

Bells ring

Saluting our friend,

Big Joe, they sing

The world dances to

The sweet sound

The best is the

My pulse rises when we begin to play

“Amazing Grace” and “One More River to Cross”

This is where I belong

Playing with the All-Star Stompers all day long

I hope they play on my dying day

I live on the streets

I don’t have a pillow or sheets

I’ve been arrested many times

All for stolen goods worth only pennies and dimes

I have to steal to survive

Even though I don’t really thrive

But I’m still me

Freddy oh Freddy

Is an alcoholic

He will beg you to lend him spare change,

To grab an ice cold beer at the bar.

He will never be quiet!

He is underground laying in a coffin.

Freddy oh Freddy.

My skin dark as a winter’s midnight,

Tiny body as delicate as morning light.

As worn as dusty books on the attic floor,

Don’t expect things to happen on their own anymore.

My eyes like coal in a lifeless fireplace,

A creaking windowpane,

Pelted with snow,

Reflecting light onto the dusty, deep brown floor.

The rooms seems to sigh, pained with age,

Abandoned; left waiting,

The cold is kept at bay by a single lamp,

When I look at myself I see

Harlem reflected back at me

A great city with

A great history

When I look at myself, I see the roads I have traveled

To get here, and though they took a while,

In the map of wrinkles in my face

I used to be young,

Running around Harlem having fun.

But now I grow old,

And the angels are calling.

Time to go home,

Time to go home.

Look at her,

I look at myself.

I see him,

I see myself.

I find what I want...

It’s not an option.

Mother is marrying Big Joe.

Why she decided to, I do not know.

Doesn’t she know,

She is betraying Father?

Doesn’t she know I don’t want to be a daughter,

To anyone but Father?

Hey! You see that

girl? Yeah right over

there. Yes the                                pretty

Music Will Play

People Will Cry

But Big Joe

Didn’t Die

What makes me me,

Is the way I see things.

The happiness it brings,

That tells others what I see.

A gun’s cause’s harm

To the innocent

And gives fairness to the verdict

It’s not really the gun but,

The soul behind the gun

So much stress is on my mind,

she’s your daughter just as much as she is mine.

I brush her hair and iron her sweater,

when the winter brings such unfriendly weather.

You might say your work is rough,

I met a woman

Old as dirt

Yet nice as the morning sun,

Living where some considered

The worst part of town

Yet somehow

She finds time

To knit me a sweater

Of dark green string

Straight from the soul

My job is so exhausting,

I don’t have time for parenting!

Maybe my wife should try fighting crime,

and I can stay home all day wasting time.

All she does is cook and shop and clean,

I don’t understand how it’s difficult to do those things.

Walking up and down every street,

Every day – thump, thump, thump

Go my boots.

Walking past the park

Every day – thump, thump, thump

Goes the wino’s stereo.

They say they help,

They ain’t no good.

Ask for food,

Barely get kelp.

I wish I could just be

F r e e

Eating my thoughts,

Twisting my mind,

Her shadow passes through,

My words I can’t find.

She looks to me, waiting,

Her eyes pierce my heart,

I know what is coming,

I can’t let it start.

The days are piling up,

But I can’t move,

So little motivation,

Yet so much to prove.

I don’t want to be here,

But don’t know how to get away,

My only escape,

Is the game that I play.