ya want some love but not for keeps,
ya play us well and make the sweeps,
we swept right up off the floor,
we hurried and broomed on out the door.
so take it or go,
make it real slow,
lemme watch ya and think to myself,
"Daddy,
baby, my fine **** man,
lemme watch ya and think to myself,
'When is he gonna trip onto that
fat ****** face?
Pale, ignorant race?'
Not even a trace,
no, no, no."
No, no, no,
not even a single ****** trace
of warmth or love or kindness
or recognition of my humanity,
the sole thing that makes me
a likewise piece of the Earth.
I'm gonna sweep away those ships,
****** doggoned grisly wrecks,
sweep 'em right over the passing waves
and right off the edge of the Earth.
Cuz I don't call NOBODY "Daddy,"
though I call one person "dad,"
"father," "pops" and it pops
I stick my needle through the
pulsing air and it pops
your **** heart pops.
and ya had your fun,
your day in the Sun,
our little run and now,
and now, and now,
oh, now, it's done,
don't make me get a gun.
I know nothin' exists in singularities,
nothin' exists on its own,
vacuums only are in theory,
we are living to our bones
and the living state rests
right into our **** bones,
however,
I can hate you for what you have done.
I can hate you and I will hate you
for every single thing that you have done,
"Daddy,"
"Mommy," too,
the systems of patronizing pater familias
and all working gears of institutional
injustice,
hurt,
pain,
wreck,
my ships may be wrecks, now, too,
but the wind and the breeze are quick to blow
and the direction of the currents are fast and strong.
So just sit there ya ****
sit and **** into your ***** being
just sit there and ya think,
"Why ya fingerin' that doorknob
when I thought I played ya for keeps?"