I live on The Corner.
The edge. The outside. The border.
I open my eyes. Fix my scarf. Rub my hands and breathe in.
.. And as I walk I feel the icy air bite right into my skin.
Man, let me tell you. The Corner is cold.
That is at least if you bother listening to the stories that are told.
By the young and the old.
Those trying to fit into that mold.
They’ve made for us.
.. And still,
We march on. Heads held high, right out onto our corner.
But from the birth of my mother’s love I know that I was meant for something warmer.
.. You know,
The Corner is crowded. And yet we all somehow still don’t fit in.
On our way to work, catching stares that make us ashamed of our skin.
Man, I am young.
And they do their best to remind me that I have a very long way to go.
Like somehow they all have something that I just simply couldn’t know.
But then why don’t they just tell me?
Or is it something they cannot say..
Some kind of lesson each of us must learn to get us on our own way..
I wish I could give you this feeling.. Wish I could give you this feeling
The Corner is right here at the intersection.
A place where the mean streets meet, a place often going without mention.
A land without contention.
Let’s get a jacket.
Open up some new gloves right out the packet.
Let’s get out back to the corner.
Damn it man, let’s make it warmer.
Inspired by Common – The Corner