#AmericanWriters
I got to leave this town. It’s a lonesome place. Got to leave this town cause It’s a lonesome place. A po’, po’ boy can’t
Because my mouth Is wide with laughter And my throat Is deep with song, You do not think
I am your son, white man! Georgia dusk And the turpentine woods. One of the pillars of the temple f… You are my son!
When you turn the corner And you run into yourself Then you know that you have turned All the corners that are left
Gather quickly Out of darkness All the songs you know And throw them at the sun Before they melt
I’ve known rivers: I’ve known rivers ancient as the w… My soul has grown deep like the ri… I bathed in the Euphrates when da… I built my hut near the Congo and…
When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. When I was home de Sunshine seemed like gold. Since I come up North de
I sat there singing her Songs in the dark. She said; 'I do not understand The words’.
Landlord, landlord, My roof has sprung a leak. Don’t you 'member I told you abou… Way last week? Landlord, landlord,
God in His infinite wisdom Did not make me very wise— So when my actions are stupid They hardly take God by surprise
When the shoe strings break On both your shoes And you’re in a hurry— That’s the blues. When you go to buy a candy bar
I would liken you To a night without stars Were it not for your eyes. I would liken you To a sleep without dreams
Oh, silver tree! Oh, shining rivers of the soul! In a Harlem cabaret Six long—headed jazzers play. A dancing girl whose eyes are bold
I went to the Gypsy’s. Gypsy settin’ all alone. I said, Tell me, Gypsy, When will my gal be home? Gypsy said, Silver,
What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up like a raisin in the sun? Or fester like a sore— And then run?