You can't survive through music only
Here I was thinking that is what I'm trying to do
And I'm not even half as good as my little sister Jayne
Her voice is flawless, when she sings the world stops
Her chords reach to the hands of time
I am sure they refered to this peculiar being
When they said "I heard angels sing"
The neighborhood stops
And elokshin it barely does
It's as if her voice clears clean the environment of clumsy noises
Only hers reigns
But here I am a struggling poet
Barely making anything of my life
Watching my dream outgrow me like an unwanted hedge
Yet still I believe in these words
As clumsy as they are
They will speak for me
To my daughter Nealah
To my granddaughters
To the next generation
Of Jokonia
I had a dream
As it is it's really a challenge being an artist under normalcy but now with this pandemic, it's suicide. How shall we live