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