Seasoned

My spring was full of famine but we’re jamming til the street lights awoke out their slumber

Whilst we was lighting our smoke asking success for her number

We got hope

My summers was somber happiness was never a feeling

My soul was on fire the words I would manifest had the whole neighbourhood screaming

We got hope

My autumn bought on boredom under the grey clouds imagination in a coma seeing nittys laid out on the corner

Freedom was played out but I can smell the aroma of slavery stuck to my pigment so ducking an ass whooping was instinct

We got hope

My winters was wooed by my oppressors the schools out no lesson for the youth how do they address us they shoot at our depression

I’m seeing those that look like me murdered in the street daily on news as they play chequers with the truth

We got hope