three houses, one hotel, and it seemed every guy

on my street still conversed at the corner. there's

always an element to hide; some grams of H' to

the breast pocket, weed and some ganja. Green;

whatever sprouts so innocently has a dark history,

and this is how them boys get nicked. they knew

the names of all the jail rooms in Manchester, and

how their wardens smell like, how cold turkey felt...

there's always something to hide; a spoon, a syringe

and a needle and then there's the hiding that happened

inside the bloodstream and the hiding from family.

Gold; that's where the money is, and the boys be wanting

to get rich on drugs, it is the mix of uncut brown and

vinegar, and water to irrigate the greens... Red; I OD'd

on the first day, pronounced dead on arrival. you cannot

suspect a belt for a tourniquet around the waist. my guys,

they call you boss and lie there is nothing here. "there's

nothing on me, BOSS", that's how I got rolled on and

found myself on a trolley to emergency. I did swear I'm

never doing this anymore. Addiction is a scary thing, you

never realize it's coming until you are tagging yourself

an addict by yourself. you want to be in control man,

but control does not mean hope. It does not mean

striving in this business to get rich on the block.

You could die

living on the edge, turning blue.

you could get shot...

but the only escape

from this monster

is to surrender

To a higher authority.

And that's not the cop,

It's not the cop man,

it's Yahweh.