The Pursuit

Papa played the trumphet, mama sang a song
daughters on the dancefloor, brothers on the wall
brown was in the bottle, green was in the eye
voices in the background, fire in the sky

Aunty in the kitchen, uncle on the phone
somewhere in the basement, kids was gettin grown
started with a slow kiss, gentle to the touch
followed by the light-switch, fingers start to clutch

"Maybe we should slow-down", babygirl would whisper
"OOOH, I'M TELLIN MOMMY!"....that was little sister
then would come the one song, people gather round
in a sea of rhythm, everybody drowned

Summernights was slumber, underneath the stars
youngins on the corner, playin, "thats my car"
neighborhoood depression, hopeless it would seem
still somehow we made it, just'us and a dream

Oftentimes I wonder, just what became of them
the ones I went to school with, the few I called ‘my friends'
They say the Lord will bless the child, who's got his own one day
I too believe, but til then, tis for the prisoner I pray.