Standing in the ruins
|
Of another Black man's life,
|
or flying through the valley
|
They're separating day and night.
|
"I am death," cried the Vulture.
|
"For the people of the light."
|
|
Charon brought his raft
|
and came from the sea that sails on souls,
|
And saw the scavenger departing,
|
taking warm hearts to the cold.
|
He knew the ghetto was the haven
|
for the meanest creature ever known.
|
|
In a wilderness of heartbreak
|
and a desert of despair,
|
Evil's carrion of justice
|
shrieks a cry of naked terror.
|
He's taking babies from their momas
|
and leaving grief beyond compare.
|
|
So if you see the Vulture coming,
|
he's flying circles in your mind,
|
Remember there is no escaping
|
for he will follow close behind.
|
Only promised me a battle,
|
battle for your soul and mine.
|
|
He taking babies from their momas
|
And he's leaving
|
Leaving
|
Leaving
|
Leaving
|
Leaving
|
|
-----------------
|
The Vulture
|
| Gil Scott-Heron |
