On a night where people rejoice
I find myself lonely inside of me.
T he world admires my brilliance,
Women woo at my Godly presence
But yet I search for my Strawberries,
This particular fruit
I beg will understand my plight
And appreciate my roots.
Loneliness is a sickness,
And I’m so tired of going to the emergency room,
Is there a cure somewhere?
Midnight interviews, finds me heavy,
Television, magazines, radio spots all tell half truths,
A man torn by his own destiny.
You cry for the spotlight
But the world knows no genuineness,
Only nasty results, and seven story fires.
I just want my strawberries
A Strawberry that is sensitive, sweet, and seductive
A Strawberry with a gentle hand shake and a sassy laugh
A Strawberry that exudes sexiness and her beauty is an understatement
A Strawberry that is not afraid to be loved.
No more Strawberry impostures,
You the know the one’s who’s agenda’s consist of,
Prada, Gucci, Ball-Player parties, and late night rendezvous
No Oranges, or Grapes, and Peaches won’t do,
I search for my true heart,
I yearn for pure love in an impure world.
I believe the children are our future
But yet there are no seeds to plant fresh Strawberries.
Maybe I’ll leave and follow a tour bus,
Endless travels to worlds unknown and unseen.
The thought of leaving gives my heart hope
A smile for Bobby and Whitney, for at least they have unity
But yet there are no Strawberries for me…

7-2-05 (2 am)