Keziah Jones African Space Craft
(Spoken intro) Class programme for the African Anarchist 14 carats he pleaded Yeah, just let me take the grain like a criminal should Burdens? As in work-horse? God works in mysterious ways but never as a coolie Never as a coolie in the sweat shop of a deranged mind Her chocolate stain is The envy of caucasia. On these empty pages Lies an ejaculatory speech Will his letter survive? Will the words ever reach? Tell me will his letter survive? Will the words ever reach their destination? Well I can hear the call of the Mosque And the ringing of the bells Yeah, everlasting peace on earth And the casting of spells I can see thin white strips of cotton And an ol' wide broom I can see their feelings all wrapped up and muffled In an emotional room Now, it's the 10th of January And a Taxi awaits to bring me to thee But I'm a son of April And, the only African container of religious sound. Hey! Yeah, the only African container of religious sound So they make love on the 11th, f..ck on the 12th And on the 13th they depart Back to the world of school uniforms, Perfects with guns and jackboots with heart Would a true story of cultural splinters Ever shred you as a tear? They were making love on a bed of emotional Rizla To burn away the fear They were making love on a bed of emotional Rizla To burn away the fear
