The Piner

 

i grew up in harlem
the lowest of the low
so when i got vanna
i fell it's true i know
that's what i called
this ill white honda
that i got one time
as a loaner
for sonja

sonja was a car
you could hear from
very far
she wasn't fast
like layla
yet still a neck breaker
now the weed was greener
but it had stopped coming in jars...

i think it had just become
too much of a hassle
back to the future
at this point i felt like
i had graduated
but there was no tassle
ironic cause of the chronic
a dropout on the rock
no fraggle

so i quickly began
to take on the mantle
various roles and responsibilities
tolls and liabilities
my sins grew to a litany
i had stopped worrying about tiny tim ya see...

or the opinions of most of my peers
colleagues or role models...
thinking myself the best judge of a situation
no tontos...
just me the lone ranger
trying to stay out of danger
or am i just ebeneezer
surrounded by fakes, riff raff,
and skeezers...
i liked it better when it was
143 on the beepers...

i had become a man
i had no word for...
for some women be spinsters
but old single men
generally
are considered worth more
because of what i yearn for
a piner for more of the times of yore...
longing for a love gone long before
wishing there was still romantic tales and lore...