I remember when Jada wrote Jason's lyrics
across her heart
lounging on third rails
in southern cities
train watchin from a distance
attachin all her hopes and dreams
to the places they might have been
that she had never seen
a big dreamer in a small town
I remember that ghost from
Wild style
Whose name I never learned
Whose face I barely remember
One of many young brothers and
War vets
Whose message
Like Lyric's dreams
Were carried to places unseen
Young prophets with no people
Only arasol for scripture
I remember the scene where this train
In the NYC was covered with graffiti
Or should I say burners, tags and throw-ups
A million voices
A million dreams
all screamin from the margins. .
But still never noticed
across her heart
lounging on third rails
in southern cities
train watchin from a distance
attachin all her hopes and dreams
to the places they might have been
that she had never seen
a big dreamer in a small town
I remember that ghost from
Wild style
Whose name I never learned
Whose face I barely remember
One of many young brothers and
War vets
Whose message
Like Lyric's dreams
Were carried to places unseen
Young prophets with no people
Only arasol for scripture
I remember the scene where this train
In the NYC was covered with graffiti
Or should I say burners, tags and throw-ups
A million voices
A million dreams
all screamin from the margins. .
But still never noticed