Cee-aye-ezz taught me
Panties ain’t mandatory.
I’ve been there, earned the shirt
And I did not shy the skirt
As that skirt didn’t shy from me. It was mandatory.
This song is for the hired pay,
The Middle Class pay-receivers
Who, if not for the money, would have walked away:
Those who balance between their Middle Class dreams
The wit and forecum of rich trans-national genes.
Yes, this song is for you, it is no critique,
But a slow, soft, sigh cos I know you don’t know
That no matter how you try, you’re not in there with it.
They know in your ass swing, your made up pretense
That you don’t belong fifty yards within their fence.
It taught me, the white coloured cock is a
Layer thicker to the Lankan. How the bread is divided
Where water is passed off as wine. Give you a
Free choice to choose between baby and whore,
For a matter of a flirt; and a few dollars more.
And you watch them float away, the more miserable of us,
Watch them graduate to Yale and for
A safe flight we pray. They who have paid us well
Kept our little shanty hearths a flicker.
Does it ring something — anything — anywhere, when I say asslicker.
Aye-ezz, oh yes: I miss you big time,
I miss those fleshy torsos that smell good,
Walks, twists by the spine. And all that heel stamping
Within a staffroom of ambition: Middle Class shoes on Middle Class
In a life saving mission.