The term seems to be seen often, in dating circles or when in social situations of casual associations. There are times when you meet this "friend of a friend" and they are cast aside in memory almost as soon as you meet them. Other times that secondary friendship becomes something more substantial. For example, I met three or four people (there are more but we're focusing on a small number) through my partner Cam. At first thought the people that come to mind as enduring souls are Santos, Vanessa, Lauren, and Lieu. This installment of "The Connect" is about the last named Lieu Fatale.
I KNOW!! She's been a discussion point before.
By way of a disclaimer, this IS NOT me being a suck-up or pole jocking. It has always been a policy of mine to speak well of those who I see talent and greatness in. She happens to one of them. Period.
For a LONG time Lucius Black and Lieu Fatale have been threatening a collaboration. It's been discussed but somehow, given our own individual drives an/or hustles, it
Letters Home
Verse One
The lead to the paper when the number twos were nubs
“Are you ready”, a simple question with answers of shrugs
So unsure of the first steps when the words came
But there was the given name
Caught up in the list of progression all the same
Heavy worlds on the Atlas in the brand new scenario
Excitement and a fear a masked man will barely show
It was a thrill, nothing or but eclectic
Despite the nerves and the presses being hectic
The freedom of breathing was damn near electric
The boy was a prodigal after a million doting days
A three twice guy, three thrice girl making sixty-nine ways
Young and wild making nights louder in their coming of two meaning
A sin city for the new secrets and the bad hands leaning
It was well hidden from home and mother’s gleaning
(But still you’re lost in the limelight, right?)
Chorus
The strumpets and panderers whispering in the night
Hustling for souls promising riches & a good time
Everything to be wished for granted with one breath
The spoil of the streets nurturing on an ambitious breast
When the wells run dry and the young suffer a slow death
There is nothing left but smiles caged within rotting flesh
Verse Two
Ballpoint’s turn to trace the pages until the ink dries
Long ago the kid as formerly seen up and lies down, dies
Leaving an animal with the same face and less ambition
Unless the word counts for putting pretty lambs in position
For rounds of pounding without either looking to intermission
Libations became the new water, tipped with fire and change
Making Jekyll no longer Hyde if only to rearrange
Suffer the purpose in the face of weekly drunken KOs
Trading cunning linguists for a little fellatio
“Blow this horn, girl, like you were Horatio”
Embracing the prodigal tighter than lovers true
When being straight laced is the last thing to do
Only in the slow evenings without drink or joint
As the lines with the words anoint
Unafraid now of who the stories might disappoint
(But still a young illusion…who are you fooling?)
Chorus
Verse Three
Twelve pointed font when the format is right
Something so tired of the endless nights
Came about the time when fun got far too crazy
Right after the blood proved no ifs, ands, or maybe
When little Miss, that three thrice had that baby
Kicked the bad habits off to the waiting curb
Left behind the libations and no seasonings of the herb
Still the income got unfamiliar, fast money slows
And every previous looks a lot like plural no
Rolled highs once, now prepare for the lows
Here alone with nothing remaining of old design
Hard than new arithmetic to say it’s all fine
The three folds in the paper, perfectly clear
Except for a smudge that looks like tears
“Momma, I’m in hell here…”
(But still you’re learning …ain’t that right, burner)
Chorus
Verse Four
Mercifully back to the point pencil two
A little help is the remedy to see blind through
It was the planning once believed a curse
Keeping the wolves circling from making it worse
The only reason for the final verse
Some things once seen as done badly
Change here when the little girl calls boy Daddy
Amazing how decisions make boys grow up quick
Finally seeing a woman instead of some trick
Even in the despise on this child thoughts click
There was once a prodigal, once lost at the brink
Simple Peter, a savior cannot let beloved sink
A disjointed happy ending to a story
As a fable to guide and teach if only
“If you need my help, here I’ll be)
(But still we close the tome and finish these letters home)
Chorus
Letters Home
Lieu Fatale; Lucius Black
"Three Coke" Charles: The Dawn
C. Lamon; L. Powell
