Dust filled dream laden
Where boys play and girls play, and dream are lived out.
Where the sounds of laughter and joy can be heard from over yonder.
Take me to the streets from whence I came from.
The umbilical cord that is mine planted in the earth I hear it calling.
Take me to the streets where I bruised knees and scraped legs.
Our bittersweet relationship.
But the love I had for it saw me next morning.
Running up in the glare of the morning sun.
With band aids that represented battles bruises.
But ultimately showed my loyalty.
Take me to the streets where my first fight taught me not to run.
But graced me with honor in defeat.
Take me t o the streets where I saw many a broken dream.
As we transcended from the joyful bliss of childhood.
To the responsibilities of life.
Take me to the streets where I traded in freedom.
For the bondage of a nine to five.
These are the streets that made me.
The ghetto raised me.
Birthed me with dreams and disappointment.
Take me back to the streets to make testament.
To the new generation.
These streets are with you, not of you, but in you.
Take me back to the streets.
We shall make it known, dreamers should dream.
And dreams shall be lived.