One of my favorite lyrics is by a friend, Keith Jackson Byrd, a young black man who was in a wheelchair from birth. As I recall the middle name Jackson was not his, but something he added to his because of a street person who inspired him. I think his name was Roscoe Jackson. This would be an interesting subject to explore if I could find out where I put copies of his lyrics. I think he wanted to be a songwriter more so than a poet. I met him at a residence for the handicapped where I worked for a short time, and haven't run into him again since.
I only remember the beginning and the ending, but I have it written down somewhere and if I can find the rest of it I'll add the missing parts:
Needle and thread
won't mend a heart
...
The power hungry dudes
don't wear love
It doesn't fit.
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