They call me Mr. Smith
Smitty it is for some
Have a seat
Butter and syrup your short stack
I need to talk to you son
Before I disconnect your power cord
And pull your façade for life card
You need to make some changes
They shouldn’t be too hard
A predatory constitution
Warps the lay of the land
Leaves tears in the hallways
When they can’t escape your hands
Imprints from your fingers
On unprotected skin
Evidence you have been to places
You should never have been
Not a new note to the downbeat
A repeater of games I ran
Just like I left you have to go
You are a messy man
♪♫
I don’t wanna hear about your mess in the streets
Keep it to yourself
To yourself
Mr. Jones
I don’t wanna hear about your mess in the streets
Keep it to yourself
To yourself
Mr. Jones
The things you have been doing
Will cause half the sky to fall
Can’t let that happen
Won’t let you do that
It would destroy us all
You didn’t see them coming
They arrived together at enough
In pants and skirts or nothing at all
The multitudes called your bluff
We are in this together
She and me you and I
But you can’t play in our world
If you make her soul cry
So enjoy the meal
I have all day
More coffee to fuel the plan
To get you right
To rid the world
Of one more messy man
♭♫
I don’t wanna hear about your mess in the streets
Keep it to yourself
To yourself
Mr. Jones
I don’t wanna hear about your mess in the streets
Keep it to yourself
To yourself
Mr. Jones
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Oakland native Sheryl J. Bize-Boutte writes and presents her stories through prose and poetry. The author of three books and a contributor to several anthologies, her works artfully succeed in getting across deeper meanings about life and love and the politics of living in color without breaking out of the narrative. Her latest book, Running For The 2:10, a coming of age tale has been called“… a great contribution to literature.”