the horse is alright.
Okay.
I used the trappings of Kabuki theatre, mime technique, fringe New York, a British view of American street energy, meticulous carelessness, and not needing you
To look like my name, land free and (the home of the bravery, recess for the slave god, and take it all over to the bottle, especially the people living for the bottle who found jesus and I'm hoping he gets lost again in the crowd at my show so he can finally have some time to be himself and have a drink
Invent us a no-name Jazz messiah who boasts on the climb and country enough to know about the divine slowness of perfection and how the end of distractions is a weapon we'll use on city one day. Now what
I'm not part of rock and roll, I have my own identity
Just beyond. Just after. Just before. Just faster Have you just as fooled as you have me gold grilled and drooling with seizure from your notion I'm yours when I work-for-hire on some songs to get out of the yard. Now we've dug up those contracts and won all the lawsuits and all you have is awe, shoot, and them niggers,
why'd you do it
I used to hear all your forbidden laughter about how genius and regal we are in private but there's a market for savage until everything went public all of a sudden it's not funny
(Can we cheer. Okay)
