"My_World's_Women" lyrics
Black woman I've failed you
I've not found a way out of my 18th century dungeon cell
By conditioning
I've abandoned everyone
I've turned my weakness to madness
I've
Lost my first born to the care of Nazi starlets
I've made allies with the matrons in the prison clinics
I've been fitted with the dinner jackets of house servants
And tycoon mixers
I've sat idle as the village
The ancestral cradle
Was rezoned
I've submitted traditional song to the staff writers of mans blight forevermore who resolve our collective memory and rapidly scorned fees
But you deserve more
A stomach full of direct sun
A marvel block carved into your likeness...
Nubian kings huddled at your primordial oven
With tunneled skies to your inner ear adjacent star nebula
As their birth certifcate
As their hand drawn self-portrait
Genuflecting followers who submerge your feet in kisses
Their points of view engorged
Heavy with volumes of fact-checked personal prayers
Betangled bushes
Being hugged childproof with opened heads
And a lover enhanced or
Ever exchanging with your dynamo
But instead there's this
Preschool day homes hosting blind cut labatomies
Identity affirmations from the etherized wives of African problems
Greek bathhouse timeshare owners
Fighting in style
Rolling their necks
Sucking their teeth
Snapping fingers
Those wagging wands of incandescent power
And us adrift
Lines of codes abridged
Correlated as hermetically sealed servings of bespoken content
Your enflamed lips as gerter
To thw father of gynocology's medieval playhouse
Black Woman I've failed you
I've not found a way out of my resized 21st century profile pic
A long con
I've abbreviated colonial periods with inflattering song structures
I had sold mama's house to yuppy playwrites of science fiction
By vomiting embalming slush into a body mold
I have offered the pseudo-self
A warped take on the outlier
A gene jumble
A fulcrum of web 2.0 patchwork
A petrifying shot to woe your figurine
Black man as organ farm
But you deserve more
I've not found a way out of my 18th century dungeon cell
By conditioning
I've abandoned everyone
I've turned my weakness to madness
I've
Lost my first born to the care of Nazi starlets
I've made allies with the matrons in the prison clinics
I've been fitted with the dinner jackets of house servants
And tycoon mixers
I've sat idle as the village
The ancestral cradle
Was rezoned
I've submitted traditional song to the staff writers of mans blight forevermore who resolve our collective memory and rapidly scorned fees
But you deserve more
A stomach full of direct sun
A marvel block carved into your likeness...
Nubian kings huddled at your primordial oven
With tunneled skies to your inner ear adjacent star nebula
As their birth certifcate
As their hand drawn self-portrait
Genuflecting followers who submerge your feet in kisses
Their points of view engorged
Heavy with volumes of fact-checked personal prayers
Betangled bushes
Being hugged childproof with opened heads
And a lover enhanced or
Ever exchanging with your dynamo
But instead there's this
Preschool day homes hosting blind cut labatomies
Identity affirmations from the etherized wives of African problems
Greek bathhouse timeshare owners
Fighting in style
Rolling their necks
Sucking their teeth
Snapping fingers
Those wagging wands of incandescent power
And us adrift
Lines of codes abridged
Correlated as hermetically sealed servings of bespoken content
Your enflamed lips as gerter
To thw father of gynocology's medieval playhouse
Black Woman I've failed you
I've not found a way out of my resized 21st century profile pic
A long con
I've abbreviated colonial periods with inflattering song structures
I had sold mama's house to yuppy playwrites of science fiction
By vomiting embalming slush into a body mold
I have offered the pseudo-self
A warped take on the outlier
A gene jumble
A fulcrum of web 2.0 patchwork
A petrifying shot to woe your figurine
Black man as organ farm
But you deserve more
