Michael Franks' "Best Of" album in my cPod
I can't help but feel the pedestrians
Are watching me
Telepathically disrupting my public meditation
I wish for peace
But I hear them all
The secrets, the pain, the envy
They secretly pain to gain what they envy about me
I don't want to give them power
I simply want them to understand mine
Because no one is more powerful than me
Except that damn phone
They bother me on
"When Sly calls, the prophet speaks"
"Don't touch that phone..." God whispers to the passersby
Or am I disobeying them?
How hard is it to get a cab downtown?
Am I that dark?
Or am I that dark?
Do they fear the black I am?
Or the does the black in them fear the light I bring?
I can't help but ponder such ludicrous things.
"Hello, Michael? It's Sly..."
Too bad I'm just...