The Wall The weight of their station, always on their shoulders The bell ring of their privilege came loose from its holder. Their fire is the devil’s journey. Every writer is a sacred cow. Their creed is a box of cans, these profits of hear and now. Let them drink the night, climb the scaffolds all, Every tunnel a sacred rite. The bible is the wall. They are my teachers and clergy They speak with visual tongues. They buy time with the dark. take what’s free in their lungs. My mother lost her journey My father found his tramp, the ghetto, my silver spoon. Every fighter is my champ. Let them drink the night, climb the scaffolds all, Every tunnel a sacred rite. The bible is the wall.
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