Woke to a bayou beat this morning
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Brewed up a hip hot herb hit tea
Tripped out onto the sleek city streets
Hunting down on the words Iíd need
Hunting down on the words Iíd need.
But the dayís shot through with a strangeness, somehow
Shot through with shit-hot hip-hop beats
And the streets are a senseless mess of flesh
And my muse is a whore and a tease
Yes my muse is a whore and a tease.
For my words are all trapped on the subway map
Trapped black on the gas-fume breeze
And I canít see the soul of this sleaze-streaked town
For the grease and the grime and the greed
No I canít see a soul for the greed.
So I run, rat-scared through the snarling streets
Through the voodoo smoke that they breathe
Through this broke-down town full of hostile hands
Groping urgent unmet needs.
Groping out for their unmet needs.
Oh, this slave-drive world wields a nine-sinned whip
Beating bright bold souls to their knees
And Iím down on my luck, downíníout for the count
With my nine dead sins at my feet
Spitting shrapnel and broken teeth.
Soul shrapnel and unmet need.
Spitting shrapnel and hot spilt tea.
SoulĖspilt and Iím hip-hop beat.