Lutes

D D I don’t spit fire, I compress and I spit carbon atoms Em not the fallen prophet, I’m the pilfer-fruit-from-gardens Adam D When I was born my mom and dad got silver lutes and harps thrown at 'em Em from the hands of Zeus, it’s hard to fathom, I write all my bars in Latin, D I see Mars and Saturn in the arches of my metacarpals Em Papa told me Mama taught the moon to glow and stars to sparkle D and artistry herself was startled when she carved me out of marble Em N.C. I don’t put a price on life, I sharpie markered on the bar code I had a dream where I came face to face with Aphrodite Em In a closet full of sneakers, half adidas, half were nike, D Wrap my psyche up in styrofoam, my words in struggle raps Em and double-back them in a couple flaps of verbal bubble wrap D My culture taught me I should be afraid of strangers, Em and be afraid of changes, and be afraid of danger, D and I don’t want a cup of coffee in the comfort of my cubicle Em that’s why I make decisions where I always choose the stupid one, D I must admit it’s super fun, and I know where my future’s going Em D I mapped the whole thing out at 10 and just now called an uber for it Em D And finally it's moving