Tom: G major
Verse 1
G
F
G
I'm
F
As this young songstress I know
A lucid dream companion
who spoke like she
wrote
Am
F
All midnight indigos
recalled to the bluest
G
no found out she was murdered by
F
G
NYPD two days ago
F
mistaken for arm they found no
G
real weapons just her pen
F
her past some words she wrote her last
poem about a kid with a diagnosis
F#dim
F
poetry an d prose was insanity's
Ab
G
Harlem streets pavement piercing his piece
like a needle puncturing birds
wing on dark nights the
kid thought he was tripping
He kept hearing death sing in his sleepwalk
and become sleep -flight
He flew right out of his
New
G
Two days ago, six cops emptied the con
Em
G
tents of five nines and thirty -eight
The shots rang out for miles like
village vanguard horn blasts
F
Each note contemplating the fate of an
emcee who spoke in the bluest notes
And the future's hope dims by the light of
G
F
another star shot and slain
G
Two days later I'm riding
the 4 train uptown
This kid walks up to me and just
his earth -toned crochet crown
F
G
Says, brother, we living on borrowed time
F
You have to say shit else,
I seen it all go down
Like a silent film projected in his eyes
G
The kid was at the scene of
the cop's crime
Was the first to curve his
spine to the sky
I can pray for guidance and mercy
on the soul of the bluest note
Seen it with his own eyes,
I'm ridin' the uptown 4 train
Watchin' the bluest note's grave and
the exercise of a haunting harrowing
Am
This kid's conscience, he says,
F
Am
you know, it's no coincidence
He and
Bb
F
Told me how he knew where one of those
G
F
G
murderous cops was tucked away, hide
Said he was headed that way,
was I down to ride
Man, the bluest note wrote time tied taut as the
turbulence of tumult in a tortured mind
F
She wrote about thunderclap
and clave for death as he rhymes
She wrote about destiny calling a new day,
spilling red wine to libate the sky
I told him I would honor her memory,
I was down to ride
G
I'd see him outside the cop spot at nine
Man, I checked the time
Seven became eight,
became cock nine
C
G
Clocked hands angled forty -five,
crochet crown gave the sign we made our approach
G
for diablo for timothy thomas my girl ayana the
blue was snowed and i i never
Em
G
F
i just know my intentions and forged a rope
F
G
Em
G
hung like si lence in space
Em
G
Faceless fire, my faith
Cm
G
F
The shit activists don't mention
when they're
chanting slogans
G
The reality writers conjure
poems
Ab
G
The black blood surfing
the swells of the
F
Am
streets like sea foam
F
G
Motivated by revenge,
I died looking crazy
and alone.
A marginal martyr.
F
A ghost floating down trumpets
and saxophones
eternally searching for the sound
G
F
of the bluest note.
This ain't funny,
so don't you dare laugh
This ain't funny,
so don't you dare laugh
Just another case about the wrong path
Just another case about
the wrong path
Straight
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