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| 1. |
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are you weary as water
in a faucet left dripping with an incessant sadness like a sad record skipping and an ugly and ornery and shadowy dread lurking like a troll under the bridge between your heart and your head she came to and her whole life was how she remembered it she had a mouth full of fur and she was laughing she parked her hearse across three spaces posted "motorcycles only" and jumped out shouting what the cus could make a nice girl like us feel so lonely? are you weary as water in a faucet left dripping with an incessant sadness like a sad record skipping and an ugly and ornery and shadowy dread lurking like a troll under the bridge between your heart and your head please dumb blind kind sir lend little miss listless just a little bit of christmas she's been a real good girl but now she's stuck here the world is so little and still mysterious and ominous as ever before like an unmarked bottle full of pills on the shelf right next to the thing you were reaching for are you weary as water in a faucet left dripping with an incessant sadness like a sad record skipping and an ugly and ornery and shadowy dread lurking like a troll under the bridge between your heart and your head swing the groove 'round here where i can reach it when i get my ass back on track i'm gonna need it swing shift til i get the money to buy me and my baby a moon full of honey then i'm gonna turn off the nagging voices inside my head that follow me to bed and say (you suck) are you weary as water (what'd you do that for?) in a faucet left dripping with an incessant sadness like a sad record skipping and an ugly and ornery and shadowy dread lurking like a troll under the bridge between your heart and your head (end of radio version rest is only on To the Teeth) if you diggin on the sound (break it down down) no walls up break it down (break it down down) happiness spread it all around (break it down down) racist stomp it in the ground (break it down down) so if you diggin on the sound (break it down down) no walls up break it down (break it down down) ignorance stomp it in the ground (break it down down) then happiness spread it all around (break it down down) tcha who said funk and hip hop can't match put us together on a stage and like a match KABOOM guess who stepped in the room sweepin ya off ya feel like we had a broom with ani difranco and Maceo. add a little freestyle flow and who knows put a little scratchin into the mix and its enough to get you high if you need a fixin if you diggin on the sound (break it down down) no walls up break it down (break it down down) ignorance stomp it in the ground (break it down down) happiness spread it all around (break it down down) if you diggin on the sound (break it down down) no walls up break it down (break it down down) happiness spread it all around (break it down down) racist stomp it in the ground (break it down down) break it down down down down (fades out) |
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| 2. |
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are you weary as water
in a faucet left dripping with an incessant sadness like a sad record skipping and an ugly and ornery and shadowy dread lurking like a troll under the bridge between your heart and your head she came to and her whole life was how she remembered it she had a mouth full of fur and she was laughing she parked her hearse across three spaces posted "motorcycles only" and jumped out shouting what the cus could make a nice girl like us feel so lonely? are you weary as water in a faucet left dripping with an incessant sadness like a sad record skipping and an ugly and ornery and shadowy dread lurking like a troll under the bridge between your heart and your head please dumb blind kind sir lend little miss listless just a little bit of christmas she's been a real good girl but now she's stuck here the world is so little and still mysterious and ominous as ever before like an unmarked bottle full of pills on the shelf right next to the thing you were reaching for are you weary as water in a faucet left dripping with an incessant sadness like a sad record skipping and an ugly and ornery and shadowy dread lurking like a troll under the bridge between your heart and your head swing the groove 'round here where i can reach it when i get my ass back on track i'm gonna need it swing shift til i get the money to buy me and my baby a moon full of honey then i'm gonna turn off the nagging voices inside my head that follow me to bed and say (you suck) are you weary as water (what'd you do that for?) in a faucet left dripping with an incessant sadness like a sad record skipping and an ugly and ornery and shadowy dread lurking like a troll under the bridge between your heart and your head (end of radio version rest is only on To the Teeth) if you diggin on the sound (break it down down) no walls up break it down (break it down down) happiness spread it all around (break it down down) racist stomp it in the ground (break it down down) so if you diggin on the sound (break it down down) no walls up break it down (break it down down) ignorance stomp it in the ground (break it down down) then happiness spread it all around (break it down down) tcha who said funk and hip hop can't match put us together on a stage and like a match KABOOM guess who stepped in the room sweepin ya off ya feel like we had a broom with ani difranco and Maceo. add a little freestyle flow and who knows put a little scratchin into the mix and its enough to get you high if you need a fixin if you diggin on the sound (break it down down) no walls up break it down (break it down down) ignorance stomp it in the ground (break it down down) happiness spread it all around (break it down down) if you diggin on the sound (break it down down) no walls up break it down (break it down down) happiness spread it all around (break it down down) racist stomp it in the ground (break it down down) break it down down down down (fades out) |
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the sun is setting on the century
and we armed to the teeth we're all working together now to make our lives mercifully brief schoolkids keep trying to teach us what guns are all about confuse liberty with weaponry and watch your kids act it out every year now like christmas some boy gets the milkfed suburban blues reaches for the available arsenal and saunters off to make the news and the women in the middle arelearning what poor women have always known that the edge is closer than you think whe your men bring the guns home look at where the profits are that's how you'll find the source of the big lie that you and i both know so well in the time it take this cultural death wish to run its course they're gonna make a pretty penny and then they're all going to hell he said the chickens all come home to roost yeah malcolm forecasted this flood are we really gonna sleep through another century while the rich profit off our blood? true it may take some doing to see this undoing through but in my humble opinion here's what i suggest we do open fire on hollywood open fire on MTV open fire on NBC and CBS and ABC open fire on the NRA and all the lies they told us along the way open fire on each weapons manufacturer while he's giving head to some republican senator and if i hear one more time about a fool's right to his tools of rage i'm gonna take all my friends and i'm gonna move to canada and we're gonna die of old age |
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Lots of folks back East, they say, is leavin' home every day,
Beatin' the hot old dusty way to the California line. 'Cross the desert sands they roll, gettin' out of that old dust bowl, They think they're goin' to a sugar bowl, but here's what they find -- Now, the police at the port of entry say, "You're number fourteen thousand for today." CHORUS: Oh, if you ain't got the do re mi, folks, you ain't got the do re mi, Why, you better go back to beautiful Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Georgia, Tennessee. California is a garden of Eden, a paradise to live in or see; But believe it or not, you won't find it so hot If you ain't got the do re mi. You want to buy you a home or a farm, that can't deal nobody harm, Or take your vacation by the mountains or sea. Don't swap your old cow for a car, you better stay right where you are, Better take this little tip from me. 'Cause I look through the want ads every day But the headlines on the papers always say: If you ain't got the do re mi, boys, you ain't got the do re mi, Why, you better go back to beautiful Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas, Georgia, Tennessee. California is a garden of Eden, a paradise to live in or see; But believe it or not, you won't find it so hot If you ain't got the do re mi. |
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there's no place in this world where i'll belong when i'm gone.
and i won't know the right from the wrong when i'm gone. and you won't find me singin' on this song when i'm gone, so i guess i'll have to do it while i'm here. and i won't feel the flowing of the time when i'm gone. all the pleasures of love will not be mine when i'm gone. my pen won't pour out a lyric line when i'm gone, so i guess i'll have to do it while i'm here. and i won't breathe the bracing air when i'm gone. and i can't even worry 'bout my cares when i'm gone. won't be asked to do my share when i'm gone. so i guess i'll have to do it while i'm here. and i won't be running from the rain when i'm gone. and i can't even suffer from the pain when i'm gone. can't say who's to praise and who's to blame when i'm gone, so i guess i'll have to do it while i'm here. won't see the golden of the sun when i'm gone. and the evenings and the mornings will be one when i'm gone. can't be singing louder than the guns when i'm gone. so i guess i'll have to do it while i'm here. all my days won't be dances of delight when i'm gone. and the sands will be shifting from my sight when i'm gone. can't add my name into the fight while i'm gone, so i guess i'll have to do it while i'm here. and i won't be laughing at the lies when i'm gone. and i can't question how or when or why when i'm gone. can't live proud enough to die when i'm gone, so i guess i'll have to do it while i'm here. |
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Pistol shots ring out in the barroom night
Enter Patty Valentine from the upper hall. She sees the bartender in a pool of blood, Cries out, "My God, they killed them all!" Here comes the story of the Hurricane, The man the authorities came to blame For somethin' that he never done. Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been The champion of the world. Three bodies lyin' there does Patty see And another man named Bello, movin' around mysteriously. "I didn't do it," he says, and he throws up his hands "I was only robbin' the register, I hope you understand. I saw them leavin'," he says, and he stops "One of us had better call up the cops." And so Patty calls the cops And they arrive on the scene with their red lights flashin' In the hot New Jersey night. Meanwhile, far away in another part of town Rubin Carter and a couple of friends are drivin' around. Number one contender for the middleweight crown Had no idea what kinda shit was about to go down When a cop pulled him over to the side of the road Just like the time before and the time before that. In Paterson that's just the way things go. If you're black you might as well not show up on the street 'Less you wanna draw the heat. Alfred Bello had a partner and he had a rap for the cops. Him and Arthur Dexter Bradley were just out prowlin' around He said, "I saw two men runnin' out, they looked like middleweights They jumped into a white car with out-of-state plates." And Miss Patty Valentine just nodded her head. Cop said, "Wait a minute, boys, this one's not dead" So they took him to the infirmary And though this man could hardly see They told him that he could identify the guilty men. Four in the mornin' and they haul Rubin in, Take him to the hospital and they bring him upstairs. The wounded man looks up through his one dyin' eye Says, "Wha'd you bring him in here for? He ain't the guy!" Yes, here's the story of the Hurricane, The man the authorities came to blame For somethin' that he never done. Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been The champion of the world. Four months later, the ghettos are in flame, Rubin's in South America, fightin' for his name While Arthur Dexter Bradley's still in the robbery game And the cops are puttin' the screws to him, lookin' for somebody to blame. "Remember that murder that happened in a bar?" "Remember you said you saw the getaway car?" "You think you'd like to play ball with the law?" "Think it might-a been that fighter that you saw runnin' that night?" "Don't forget that you are white." Arthur Dexter Bradley said, "I'm really not sure." Cops said, "A poor boy like you could use a break We got you for the motel job and we're talkin' to your friend Bello Now you don't wanta have to go back to jail, be a nice fellow. You'll be doin' society a favor. That sonofabitch is brave and gettin' braver. We want to put his ass in stir We want to pin this triple murder on him He ain't no Gentleman Jim." Rubin could take a man out with just one punch But he never did like to talk about it all that much. It's my work, he'd say, and I do it for pay And when it's over I'd just as soon go on my way Up to some paradise Where the trout streams flow and the air is nice And ride a horse along a trail. But then they took him to the jailhouse Where they try to turn a man into a mouse. All of Rubin's cards were marked in advance The trial was a pig-circus, he never had a chance. The judge made Rubin's witnesses drunkards from the slums To the white folks who watched he was a revolutionary bum And to the black folks he was just a crazy nigger. No one doubted that he pulled the trigger. And though they could not produce the gun, The D.A. said he was the one who did the deed And the all-white jury agreed. Rubin Carter was falsely tried. The crime was murder "one," guess who testified? Bello and Bradley and they both baldly lied And the newspapers, they all went along for the ride. How can the life of such a man Be in the palm of some fool's hand? To see him obviously framed Couldn't help but make me feel ashamed to live in a land Where justice is a game. Now all the criminals in their coats and their ties Are free to drink martinis and watch the sun rise While Rubin sits like Buddha in a ten-foot cell An innocent man in a living hell. That's the story of the Hurricane, But it won't be over till they clear his name And give him back the time he's done. Put in a prison cell, but one time he could-a been The champion of the world. |
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