| Something in the way of things
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| Something that will quit and won’t start
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| Something you know but can’t stand
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| Can’t know get along with
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| Like death
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| Riding on top of the car peering through the windshield for his cue
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| Something entirely fictitious and true
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| That creeps across your path hallowing your evil ways
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| Like they were yourself passing yourself not smiling
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| The dead guy you saw me talking to is your boss
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| I tried to put a spell on him but his spirit is illiterate
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| I know things you know and nothing you don’t know
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| 'cept I saw something in the way of things
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| Something grinning at me and I wanted to know, was it funny?
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| Was it so funny it followed me down the street
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| Greeting everybody like the good humor man
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| But an they got the taste of good humor but no ice cream
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| It was like dat
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| Me talking across people into the houses
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| And not seeing the beings crowding around me with ice picks
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| You could see them
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| But they looked like important Negroes on the way to your funeral
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| Looked like important jiggaboos on the way to your auction
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| And let them chant the number and use an ivory pointer to count your teeth
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| Remember Steppen Fetchit
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| Remember Steppen Fetchit how we laughed
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| An all your Sunday school images giving flesh and giggling
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| With the ice pick high off his head
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| Made ya laugh anyway
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| I can see something in the way of our selves
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| I can see something in the way of our selves
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| That’s why I say the things I do, you know it
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| But its something else to you
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| Like that job
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| This morning when you got there and it was quiet
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| And the machines were yearning soft behind you
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| Yearning for that nigga to come and give up his life
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| Standin' there bein' dissed and broke and troubled
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| My mistake is I kept sayin' «that was proof that God didn’t exist»
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| And you told me, «nah, it was proof that the devil do»
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| But still, its like I see something I hear things
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| I saw words in the white boy’s lying rag
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| said he was gonna die poor and frustrated
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| That them dreams walk which you 'cross town
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| S’gonna die from over work
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| There’s garbage on the street that’s tellin' you you ain’t shit
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| And you almost believe it
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| Broke and mistaken all the time
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| You know some of the words but they ain’t the right ones
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| Your cable back on but ain’t nothin' you can see
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| But I see something in the way of things
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| Something to make us stumble
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| Something get us drunk from noise and addicted to sadness
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| I see something and feel something stalking us
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| Like and ugly thing floating at our back calling us names
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| You see it and hear it too
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| But you say it got a right to exist just like you and if God made it
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| But then we got to argue
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| And the light gon' come down around us
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| Even though we remember where the (light or mic) is
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| Remember the Negro squinting at us through the cage
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| You seen what I see too?
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| The smile that ain’t a smile but teeth flying against our necks
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| You see something too but can’t call its name
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| Ain’t it too bad y’all said
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| Ain’t it too bad, such a nice boy always kind to his motha
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| Always say good morning to everybody on his way to work
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| But that last time before he got locked up and hurt, real bad
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| I seen him walkin' toward his house and he wasn’t smiling
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| And he didn’t even say hello
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| But I knew he’d seen something
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| Something in the way of things that it worked on him like it do in will
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| And he kept marching faster and faster away from us
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| And never even muttered a word
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| Then the next day he was gone
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| You wanna know what
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| You wanna know what I’m talkin' about
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| Sayin' «I seen something in the way of things»
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| And how the boys face looked that day just before they took him away
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| The is? |
| in that face and remember now, remember all them other faces
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| And all the many places you’ve seen him or the sister with his child
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| Wandering up the street
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| Remember what you seen in your own mirror and didn’t for a second recognize
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| The face, your own face
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| Straining to get out from behind the glass
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| Open your mouth like you was gon' say somethin'
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| Close your eyes and remember what you saw and what it made you feel like
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| Now, don’t you see something else
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| Something cold and ugly
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| Not invisible but blended with the shadow criss-crossing the old man
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| Squatting by the drug store at the corner
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| With is head resting uneasily on his folded arms
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| And the boy that smiled and the girl he went with
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| And in my eyes too
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| A waving craziness splitting them into the jet stream of a black bird
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| Wit his ass on fire
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| Or the solomNOTness of where we go to know we gonna be happy
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| I seen something
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| I SEEN something
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| And you seen it too
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| You seen it too
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| You just can’t call it’s name name name name name name name |