Have you heard The news So blue it’s black So sad its not even tragic These stories Theses tales From Virginia From a Birmingham jail This is America This is right now This is how it always has been We just refused to listen Just another victim To a broken system Sure it feels better to be numb But it doesn't feel good We all get tired from staying woke but how can you sleep With death at your backdoor Holding a badge and a gun No warrant Warrants this kind of response Where is the revolution If its not being televised
Birmingham I am your first born Ex husband Birmingham I am 3rd avenue north Birmingham I am the hands of Vulcan Birmingham I am an abandoned race course Birmingham I am your Bob Dylan Basquiat and Bukowski Birmingham I am nothing Birmingham I am blue Birmingham I’m yours if you let me Birmingham I am you
It was march At the farmers market Still kinda cold outside There were people selling their odds and ends And vendors selling fruit inside At the back of the lot Set an old taco truck That sold tacos for a dollar a pop I had 3 and a glass bottle coke And wondered if I should buy strawberries or not
The Native American man Is combing his hair outside Primark With his eagle feathers and his pipes and drums Waiting in a cardboard box Waiting For the concrete to disintegrate Greggs and Marks and Spencers crumble To the beat of the drums Waiting For green to creep across the face of Waterstones And bilberry bloom at the bus stop And a moss carpet pad the safety barriers with velvet Waiting For the beat of the drums For those feathers to soar over forest And the silk of his hair fly free in the wind
This was a vision that came to me one morning on the way to work. The man did have the most beautiful hair!
There was a man From Birmingham Who knew the answer Are we dancer But what he said no one knows Because he said it through his nose What a dummy some might say But a Brummie sounds that way I guess that's human after all The world is big and we are small.