I can't stand this no longer the wicked
get stronger, the radio was playing
Peter Tosh. His sentiment seemed so true.
It made Mr. White Boy here rather blue.
I recalled his Boston concert, paying
heaps of teenage money to hear him stick it
to The Man. Legalize marijuana,
he crooned to the smoke-filled theater of high
well-off kids who wanted a better world,
for the length of a bone at least. He twirled
his cane, tall coulda played ball, rastafari!,
mystic man, bush doctor, prima donna.
We're going backwards in the swirl of time
to Cain's bebop; the primordial slime.