I’m tired of making love to a three-pieced suit
Tired of talking ‘bout the future with you
Tired of makin plans that don’t involve
My shoulders, feet,
my neck, my hands;
I’m tired of working it all out.
I can think of a few world issues that need workin’ out
Like the world on top of my shoulders my feet
my neck, my hands;
work it all out, the knots.
I’m tired of talking haves and have-nots
Cause I been through the have-nots
And those men have
Quite a lot, that you, sweet boy,
just ain’t got.
And if I thought
for one moment I could go back to the streets
You can bet I’d be hugging an avenue that’d be loving on me;
but love is not enough.
Sad,
I need dental, visual, residual
Both a pot to piss in, a crystal clear window
I need smiles, ears, eyes, reciprocity,
Damn it just someone to agree with me.
Just sit next to me, long hours, be quiet
But truth be told—
that too is tired.
Could we dead the talk about net benefits
And by the way what kind of nets are we talking
The kind catch me jumping out of a burning building
Or the kind that trap butterflies
What kinda benefit is that?
What kinda kinda choice is this?
All that I gave up
, for this?
Matter fact, I wish:
No more money
No more plans
No more men like you
Future be damned.
let the love flood in
the kind I left in the ghetto
love that champions over death
bottom dollar bets
check deposits too short
but always right on time
and if there’s no tomorrow,
least today he’s mine