Black Magic: 1920
It’s time for a talk, with just you & me.
You’re about to hit puberty,
so things wont be the same as they used to be.
Soon, the grief will confront you.
The white world will shun you,
& you’ll have no one to run too,
but I’ll show you some Black Magic.
Because life without it is a tad tragic,
so, little lad, grab this:
My guitar, & start practice.
Let your heart grab bliss,
through the melody & patterns,
before life gives you that sad kiss,
letting you know that you’re less than human;
Less than a white man,
& you’re not even light skinned,
so you’re not allowed to be like them,
or get into the world that they thrive in,
but you see that still, I grin.
It’s because of Black Magic: Black Art.
In the face of adversity, I laugh hard,
because, through my guitar, I can grab stars,
rearrange them & own the sky.
So, boy, don’t moan & cry.
Don’t let them take what belongs to I. . Us. . We.
This art will save you, so trust me.
In America you’re anything but free,
but dreams: no one can touch these,
so clutch these with your heart & soul.
Puberty is the start of the cold,
& reality is enough to make you earl,
So play that guitar, Black Magic, & escape the world
a product of Hence Forward