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Comments about Josiah Bayne
Don'T Tell Nobody
It was dark that night, as all before,
The colour of gravestones, the ghetto and poor,
When Uncle Johnny got drunk and proceeded to explore
The innocent depths of little Sasha until her soul was sore.
He whispered words that rained like blows
Drawing blood from tears and renting clothes
Pelting screams so real it rivals Bose
When the neighbours hear, their windows close,
And she knows
That momma knows
And she's certain
That her brother knows
What scared feels like from head to toes
‘Cause he's right there on the bunk beneath
All four years ...