We can invent Kingdoms of our own grand purple thrones, those chairs of lust & love we must, in beds of rust Steel doors lock in prisoner's screams & muzak, AM, rocks their dreams No black men's pride to hoist the beams while mocking angels sift what seems To be a collage of magazine dust Scratched on foreheads of walls of trust This is just jail for those who must get up in the morning & fight for such ...