I wasn't born into a designer family. Entered life
as another unwanted mouth to feed. Birthed into strife
on rundown W. 33rd on Cleveland's near west side
where rowdy drunks roar and tawdry pimps hole up.

The product of greaser backseat adolescents
in the mid-fifties, who got it on
without getting diplomas,
and when baby daddy went to sow more oats,
mom stripped at a local biker's c...

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