Days Out On King St. Lyrics

Afternoons in a bibliotheca basement

Taking lower rates for consistency in the payment

East Side poet that planted in West Pavement

Couple groups of youth making wild ass statements

I try to teach em what I know about the pen

How to carve they story out, keep it real without pretend

To make my ends meet I had to serve and bartend

Hated it but for those kids, I would do it all again

Days out on King street

Royal blues

My crowning glory

My soiled shoes

My time is coming

My dying youth

Days out on King street

Royal blues

Way more grown than when I started

But Moses had greys when waves parted

Double the age, no nation for old pens

That's how they want us to live, don't want us as old men

My word is bond no bone in my body bitter

At people blowing before me this poet is not a quitter

Spitter full of spirit like Pentecost off the liquor

I just want the message and people to be delivered

I'm more offline than on Twitter

Hand to the plow, ears to the ground

Revolution is coming with new sounds

Writers I raised then is preaching the truth now

Days out on King street

Royal blues

My crowning glory

My soiled shoes

My time is coming

My dying youth

Days out on King street

Royal blues