Sons of Cain Are Abel
We had this fine old place in the country,
Where we grew marijuana on the lawn,
Fornicating all night long.
We had a girl here who rode a motorcycle,
Moving 90 miles an hour,
Towering 6 feet black.
Wes we all used to wonder what was happening,
When we danced half-naked in the night,
Right or wrong we carried on.
Ch: The Sons of Cain are abel
We never had such a thing as conversation,
We used to stare so blindly caring not,
What was eating at our brains.
There is a torch-like face I will remember.
That even I couldn't pass off as a joke,
Broken- token drowning slow.
Then this half-starved poet writing nothing,
He used to blurt something out then scratch,
His head, fed the sickness ruefully.
Ch: The Sons of Cain are abel
As I was walking slowly thru the lovely garden,
And someone's sick homosexual half world,
Twirled around in maybe love.
And then God made summer into autumn,
Just like the leaves, everyone began to fall,
All was empty, I left too.
Ch: The Sons of Cain are abel