momma momma momma
it was ricky it was ricky

momma don’t believe that it was ricky who done it
she thinks i killed him

momma momma momma
don’t call the fuzz
it was ricky it was ricky

Just as wild and just as true,
I’m every bit as dark as you.
I would not show it on my face,
But I’ve learned your secret, silent grace.
Your gait is sure as the day is fair
And filled with ling’ring subtle air,
But I won’t let it fool me so;

I felt as big as a mountain with the bolt cutters slung across my shoulders. Three weeks ago, when the summer had reached its solstice I had found them packed deep down in the trunk of my car.