A song in my head from the past,
Singing itself before a wake for breakfast,
Jamming in my sleep not a blast.

Playing itself every morning inside,
Softening those days near sad,
Turning rage to a page to sight.

Lost in it's melody the confusion,
Inside my head without caution,
Rooting for it's home and ammunition.

A song in my head from the ancestors,
Singing itself before a wake for answers
Jamming in my sleep not a Lester's.

Untroubled days it sings my mouth
Like I wrote it in the past proud,
Voice softer than a soft in a crowd.

Maybe of someone whom was close,
So close I never got to meet those,
One's who birthed me, folks

Wishing to meet them one day,
For I already packed everything to say,
Hey! No matter age I'll lay.