Walking down on the avenue,
see the blind one selling roses.
A panhandler with a master degree,
top ten in the class of ninety nine.
No need to worry about the youth on the corner,
cause the money in your pocket is a replica.
We’ve buried the last of Hitler’s regime,
and the Jews all rally around Israel.
Saints in the sky in quiet serene
on a back drop rumble of an A train.
Walking down on the Avenue
See the blind one selling roses.
There is no need for retaliation
this is just an observation.
Man and man a look for peace
anyway to get some release.
With a chip on your shoulder and a chip in your hand
Walking on the Avenue.
I can’t find no peace
in this new age religion.
Gone are the praises in this vision.
I hear the old ones cry out from their hiding place
As they look to the sky for a good day to die.
Walking down on life’s freeway
I remember the vision of the Black Man.
From Africa to America and all the regions throughout the Caribbean.
In a blood sweat and tears in harmony to overcome Martin Luther lamented his vision.
Music identifies the times of life as time creates music that stays in our hearts.
Born in Jamaica now living in Memphis Tennessee, Gairey Blake aspires to be what God has made him to be. A singer singer writer influenced in time by the Word of God.