When I was young I met a cop
who shook my hand and called me sir.
His name was Mr. Friendly
but now his fa e is just a blur.
It seemed that my young face
would bring Mr. Friendly smiles.
Every Friendly had one,
east to west for miles and miles.
Then one day when I had grown
my hair was nappy, pants were sagging;
Mr. Friendly pulled up on me in his brand new paddy wagon.
On his face he wore no smile
his kind tone was just a ploy.
Instead of addressing me as sir
Mr. Friendly called me boy.
He said, "These streets are dangerous
your I.D. it should be shown."
I said, "To you they're dangerous
to me these streets are home."
He said I had an attitude
and that I was just a punk.
I told him, "I'm a man,
I say what the fuck I want."
Everyone should know
what was the end result;
Mr. Friendly and his partner
beat me to a bloody pulp.
I am one man with two faces
and one man with two faces can't be in two places
I can occupy but one space at a time
I can only don one face at a time
Is it a ruse, this face that I choose?
Or am I confused and each face is true?
In time I lost sight of the line that divides
and my faces conflated to defy my design
and that which I designed for me to survive
moved from my face and into my mind
because having two faces does not come without price
and such is a price that one pays with his life
for most of my life these faces did fight
for their opportunity city to be in the light
they persuaded my mind and pled with my heart
but the face that I am is the face in the dark
after evil and good, my rights and my wrongs
I now know to which face I belong.