My Dog is Dead
My Dog is Dead

by Rick Koestler


You used to let your hair down good,
you were so loose,
you were so hip---jive talkin',
everybody loved your groove.

You used to play the gangsta' thug,
you were so bad,
you broke it down---night pimpin',
women in your crib all night.

Now you're such a different dog,
wearin' a smile,
rappin' so soft---God talkin',
preachin' bout' the streets of gold.

My dog is dead,
my dog is dead,
He's now a prophet of God instead.

My dog is dead;
they buried his head,
inside the mind who wears thorns on his head.

You used to push the needle deep,
you showed us how,
you cranked it up---night floatin',
turnin' out the clubs till dawn.

You used to chase the dragon too,
you showed us how,
we flew like you---high buzzin',
numbing out the pained lame world.

Now you're dancin' in the day,
talkin' bout' lies,
talkin' bout' truth---which is it?
Now you vow you'll show the way.

My dog is dead,
my dog is dead,
he's now an addict of Jesus instead.

My dog is dead.
Or, am I dead instead?
Thinking the darkness is light in my head.







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Rick
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Synopsis
A hip-hop type poem dreamed up in the hard streets of the lower east side of Manhattan.
A Word from the Writer
I am a Minister who works with the addicted on the lower east side.
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