the music is blasting but the microphone silent
as all they do is twirl a little disk back an forth
but will visit soon to hear a voice not of their choice
a party dressed all white blast hatred loud with black words and not understanding the sorrow they invade my windows and shamed not look me in the eyes as afraid to see love but not war they not let me rap as with not their words they make a racket I called the precinct to make it stop to no avail ranting sitting on my stoops they tell me you want four more plates in your face ***** and I smile and say I pass but stop the noise assholes living on the dole how can you afford such a blast on my taxes.
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