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I stepped out on a celluloid night |
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That flickered on a black and white reel |
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Looking for something that I could not explain |
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I could only feel |
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These were the songs upheld by the shades |
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That spoke to me as I left town |
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Israelites, The Harder they Come, 54-47* |
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I hear them now |
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And the words of the prophets never sounded |
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As good as the echo of a hard one drop |
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To be forever enslaved by a sound the creator |
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Made- don't let it stop |
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Come again, midnight passenger |
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There to accompany down |
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To the end of the souls tlost avenue |
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Feel it now |
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I kept walking in the dust all night |
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Looking for a diamond in the crush |
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Halfway under in bars like a shop that was going |
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Down-or coming up |
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It was not the sun that stung, but the feel of loss |
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And the voice of suffering and fate |
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Till I just stopped listening to the chatter of all |
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Those yesterdays- crime pays |
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We will show up with all our secret problems |
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And even if we can't find land |
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There's a tone written into soul songs |
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That understands |
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We will be free |
