Police , Collyde Prime
It’s been a long week. one of those that starts with you not having a gaddem clue of what’s gonna happen and how it would end but it ends anyway leaving you in a bloody cycle of anticipation of the next. more thinking.. less play ..more listening and
struggling to speak the language..the conversations easily can either relax you or put you off.
it’s shitty having to answer questions all over again coming from these my Anatolian brethren who are so curious to know what you were..what you are now and what your next move is with them coming up with their conclusions of who you really are.
and I am like bravo..you even know me more than I do myself..some of you should be recruited in Charles Xavier’s school for the gifted for your mind-reading abilities..I mean it’s like an interrogation room everywhere I go..every man woman boy girl.. dyke( trust me the next girl sitting beside you in the bus might be one) i meet in a social gathering strangling me with questions..how poor is Africa?…*pardon my french* when last did you have sex..(was she Turkish?) ..are you really a student or a drug dealer or a watch seller?..what is bilge Adam? is that even a school? haaa I get this one 5 times at least in a day… are you Muslim? (bloody infidel)…SHOW ME YOUR PASSPORT! * too late
.waste of telephone credit…
anyways..
my grandmother always told me that if you don’t want shit stains on your trousers you have to clean up well after the dump. my mistake and I sincerely apologize as proof that I am just sapiens who reasons…cos trust me this year has been full of shit stains…(nine yards).
to be ungrateful for those who supported this negro in this journey of life is to be a coward and wicked..
time to get back to finish writing this bloody song..
Google translation would not help if you do not understand these . trust me I have been there before.
struggling to speak the language..the conversations easily can either relax you or put you off.
it’s shitty having to answer questions all over again coming from these my Anatolian brethren who are so curious to know what you were..what you are now and what your next move is with them coming up with their conclusions of who you really are.
and I am like bravo..you even know me more than I do myself..some of you should be recruited in Charles Xavier’s school for the gifted for your mind-reading abilities..I mean it’s like an interrogation room everywhere I go..every man woman boy girl.. dyke( trust me the next girl sitting beside you in the bus might be one) i meet in a social gathering strangling me with questions..how poor is Africa?…*pardon my french* when last did you have sex..(was she Turkish?) ..are you really a student or a drug dealer or a watch seller?..what is bilge Adam? is that even a school? haaa I get this one 5 times at least in a day… are you Muslim? (bloody infidel)…SHOW ME YOUR PASSPORT! * too late
.waste of telephone credit…
anyways..
my grandmother always told me that if you don’t want shit stains on your trousers you have to clean up well after the dump. my mistake and I sincerely apologize as proof that I am just sapiens who reasons…cos trust me this year has been full of shit stains…(nine yards).
to be ungrateful for those who supported this negro in this journey of life is to be a coward and wicked..
time to get back to finish writing this bloody song..
Google translation would not help if you do not understand these . trust me I have been there before.
Collyde Prime – Police
