(I'm in the prime of my life!)

All these crippled concrete creatures
are my cronies and my teachers
I’m a creature preacher
Speak the language of the street.

Where the sidewalk ends the other side begins
So take a walk with me, I’ll help you understand
No harm in harmony
We’ll keep you safe from harm
We won’t set off the purple burglar alarm.

And all the pachyderms in packs carry Pakistani flags.
An alpaca packing heat is shooting glances at their feet.
As he spits with disdain it forms a Mandelbrot stain
On the bright hot sand of strange and foreign land.

All these crippled concrete creatures
are my cronies and my teachers
I’m a creature preacher
Speak the language of the street.

All these painstaking stain-stalkers cleaning up this mess
Of chain-smoking skinwalkers’ metamorphosis.
This landscape is shedding skin to decorate the outside from within.
Like cave art on concrete, no street art can compete
it’s truly off the wall, completely overhauls the human mind.
Too street-smart for wall art, this city has a stone heart
But there’s a way to get inside:
Make windows of this concrete wall
See through it like a crystal ball.

In the city everything is made up of concrete and stone
Where do I fit in? I’m made of flesh, blood, and bone.
Outline my thoughts in chalk, I watch the sidewalk like a hawk.
This psychic teleprompter beneath my feet, as I shuffle to the beat.

All these crippled concrete creatures
are my cronies and my teachers
I’m a creature preacher
Speak the language of the street.