Sam With The Showing Scalp Flat Top

Sam with the showing scalp flat top
Particular about the point it made
Why, when I was knee-high to a grasshopper
This black juice came out on a hard shelled chin
And they called that, tobacco juice
I used to fiddle with my back feet music for a black onyx
My entire room absorbed every echo.
The music was, thud like
The music was, thud like

I usually played such things as rough-neck and thug
Opaque melodies that would bug most people
Music from the other side of the fence
A black swan figurine lay on all color lily pads
On a little conglomeration table of pressed black felt
With same color shadows, in seamed knobbed knees, and what-nots
The long hallway rolled out into oddball odd
Beside the fly-pecked black doorway
That looked closed on the tar-lattice street
Up a wrought iron fire escape
Rolled out a tiny wooden platform with dark, hard, dark rubber wheels
Roll, skreek, roll, skreek, roll, skreek!
Sam with the showing scalp flat top
Particular about the point it made

Sam was a basket case
A hardened dark ivory clip held, saleable everyday pencils
I wish I had a pair 'o bongos
Bongo fury
Bongo fury
Ow! Bongo fury (boogie)
Bongo fury
Bongo fury
Bongo fury