In the Sick Sink

[rowens]

He in a battle with the world, he in a battle with the world,
they say.
Naw, just with myself, I say,
just with myself.

They put a ladder out there besides my window,
my windows guarded by bars,
the supporters let me a ladder out there,
case I want to get down.

It’s in their minds, I could get down real easy,
real heavy, and smooth like;
if only I can get down in their minds
it’s all right.
And I won’t let nobody down.

Why you makes them sound,
is all they need to know.
It’s only me making sounds, they think what’s wrong
with me.
Then they can’t be made to understand
the sound’s a part of me, what I can’t take or leave
at their pleasure.

Once all the people say,
The communiss, the communiss!
then, them skinhead, them skinhead!
Them fags! Them egg-head!
Them of the Defel!
They on the drug,
and in the gangs!

Now I only sick.
A sickman.

Though I got my supporters:
I think just being a sickman
is the worst judgment of all.