#AmericanWriters
When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music abou… Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest so… Rising out of the ground like a sw…
Now dreams Are not available To the dreamers, Nor songs To the singers.
I sat there singing her Songs in the dark. She said; 'I do not understand The words’.
In places like Selma, Alabama, Kids say, In places like Chicago and New York...
I will take you heart. I will take your soul out of your… As though I were God. I will not be satisfied With the touch of your hand
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head w… Let the rain sing you a lullaby. The rain makes still pools on the… The rain makes running pools in th…
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
2 and 2 are 4. 4 and 4 are 8. But what would happen If the last 4 was late? And how would it be
The gold moth did not love him So, gorgeous, she flew away. But the gray moth circled the flam… Until the break of day. And then, with wings like a dead d…
Harlem Sent him home in a long box— Too dead To know why:
In an envelope marked: PERSONAL God addressed me a letter. In an envelope marked: PERSONAL
In the Quarter of the Negroes Where the doors are doors of paper Dust of dingy atoms Blows a scratchy sound. Amorphous jack—o’—Lanterns caper
Have you dug the spill Of Sugar Hill? Cast your gims On this sepia thrill: Brown sugar lassie,
I play it cool I dig all jive. That's the reason I stay alive. My motto
Tell all my mourners To mourn in red — Cause there ain’t no sense In my bein’ dead.