Mountains Walking Inside

Came from the blocks in the rain. Now it's red and black on

my chain. Tea in the morning, sauce on the plate.

Mom cooking , I'm running it late. Ends no man with an eagle.

Kukësi to London. We equal. Old heads play qifdili, that sound under

my feet when I shake this ground. Kosova blood in a London track.

Granddad scars on his weathered back. Told me Billy M don't bend so I turned

pain to a trend, I ascend. From the estate to the Alps

in my head. Snow on the peaks, grey blocks instead. Steal that flame