Maya Angelou

The highway is full of big cars

going nowhere fast

And folks is smoking anything that'll burn

Some people wrap their lives around a cocktail glass

And you sit wondering

where you're going to turn

I got it.

Come. And be my baby.

 

Some prophets say the world is gonna end tomorrow

But others say we've got a week or two

The paper is full of every kind of blooming horror

And you sit wondering

What you're gonna do.

I got it.

Come. And be my baby.