Byok Pettersson Poems

Amen
Why do yo pray to me? (Don't lie)
Which way do yo look up in da sky? (So high)
What do yo expect to hear? What do yo want to hear?
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The blues spoke out loud, as the very first person, to me
Talkin' ‘bout movin' on and leavin' your troubles behind
That's why the blues should feel like, setting free
One day, a college educated black man, rather refined
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My blues they come from those cotton days
Black slaves bought by southern racist ways
Cruel white leaders, and if our lips were to loose
This would be our ending with a tight rope noose
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My blues they come from those cotton days
Black slaves bought by southern racist ways
Cruel white leaders, and if our lips were to loose
This would be our ending with a tight rope noose
...

Hell, Blues music on my mind,
The darkest of blue days, in one's head
With a new sound beat, scratching at my dreams
So, why can't I keep it, once out of bed?
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When thinking of thoughts
We think we already thought

Out loud, we might say
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Was Jesus an impersonator
Or the original son of the creator
Did he steal ones name
Then get all the credit and fame
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I've got a lover
She's lying on da sofa
Wit her sister in da back room
Their so dope in bed, boom boom
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Shouting about to all of my homies
Outlaw, Warsaw, even little Hacksaw
There's something afoot
It's a real hot poppin'
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