Tammy

When did I say you must, was it going back to sing, or the words of my son, who loved the house of soul, among other things, he never sang alone, in the city always first, clothes that needed ironing, anchored to his sins, but he never crawled, towards any living being, making songs was his goal, his Daddy blows a kiss, but he never did anything, a pie without the crust, says he knows the score, doesn’t even think, in a back alley scrawled, my boy is dying.