Not Quite A Saint, In A Prison (poem)

Not Quite A Saint, In A Prison Bys Jesse Scobie It all started in the summer of ’08, I played games with Cindy at the docks Worked nights at the Home Depot Parents started noticing the stocks I wrestled with the varying thoughts Of being young , but old enough to spot The setting sun Played weekend shows in Adams Morgan Aimless joyrides, cruising down 355 I jumped at the chance to break free From dead end classes with you at MC But in the end the curses you can’t see Drove us from point A to point B Always on the run It was a time of hope and change When a black man could finally win But dead soldiers kept-a-piling on In that bloody overseas, desert of sin A coward, I could never just give in The sacrifices I took from the chin Of a boy still aching Vanessa, flew with me into the stars Voyages taken on vagabond memories Drinking to non-sense and happy sickness New Years eve evolves again to January U2 was right, nothing changes actually I’m a musician and writer secondary First, I’m just faking So you made it to the big day now With your gown, cap and useful degree Shaping your future in golden plastic bricks Fortune favors the blind, who never see Opportunity in a bottle of black tea Soaking up the frigid air, I offer my 2 cents free Long before I arrive Work is harder to find, creativity is foolish Mad Men has us falling back to elegant bullshit Drop the suit, tie and grab a Gentlemen’s Jack Because it’s either a socialist or a Mormon to sit For the next four years of jumping in the pit That burns only those who care enough to hit Before they swallow pride.