Lyrics Horn Of The Clock-Bike - Saul Williams

Horn Of The Clock-Bike

«Red stain on the concrete.
Disdain for the bare feet.
Work.
Work my kitango.
No perk for the bongo.
Who presence is charity?
Who?
Who?
Who fresh from disparity?
Who arms wide open?
Who?
Who?
Who strange fruit smokin?
Paint on a canvas.
Carved from a pancreas.
Blue for the water.
Red for the daughter.
Money green where the land was.
First hand.
Second.
Second-hand laws.
Horn of the clock-bike.
Thorn of the crown spike.
Smile of the victor.
Child of the prisoner.
Statues of martyrs.
Hackers as artists.
Shout out to Atlantis!
First-hand.
Second.
Second-hand us.
Thorn of the crown spike.
Horn of the clock-bike.
Masters of institution.
Masters of space and time.
Masters of great delusion.
Masters of the mind.
I’m your master.
I’m your master…
She craves to be master.
Does what she has to.
Born of the half-life.
Worn on the path life.
Questions her teachers.
Threatens the preachers.
Do what she gotta to not mother no martyrs.
Who threatens the monarchy?
Who presence is charity?
Who eyes wide open?
Who paid that token?
Jumped over-turnstile.
Calm one that grew wild.
Horn of the crown spike.
Horn of the clock-bike."