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To Be Continued​.​.​.

from The Wooden Tongue by The Square Egg

/

lyrics

To Be Continued…
Lee/ B. Wolfe
Nacido Libre Music/ Think Of One (ASCAP)

We slid in through the back door under the cover of love songs and metaphors, words lending hugs to the women that made us.

They hadn't heard much of this dialect so we went undetected for the most part. A few looked up to notice the strange entourage, but paid us no mind as they figured to be in the safety of their surroundings, having had such a strong hold on their environment.

Over by the bar were seeing the Tupac imitators and the down south booty shakers. They were sipping Moet with those that profit from posthumous celebrity. They are the ones basking in financial gain when men fall to the sounds of bullets.

They have their hands deep in the pockets of the high-class gangsters and thugs who had long moved away from the ghettos and slums that they celebrate. And in their pockets were the women, the tricks and bitches that they kept close in order to show the public some pseudo alliance with the opposite sex that allowed for self-objectification. It was quite a sight to see.

Everyone drinking and dancing in their underwear. An abundance of vices all provided by the bigwigs who pimp them to the masses. Among the regular faces that we have come to know as evil were sprinkled in early pioneers, elder statesmen who had once had a voice, but now set silent only concerned with fattening their own pockets. They didn't really mingle well. Most of their efforts and conversation were lent to their R&B thug proteges and Hampton rejects.

Now what was funny was that most of the staff and help at the party were comrades who had recently given up the struggle, figuring we were undermanned and out-financed. They figured we were trying to liberate a people who didn't want to know freedom. Fire could be seen burning in their eyes as they poured Grey Goose and Absolut for the G's and pimps that come to the social gathering.

Little did they know that right outside, the Freedom Fighters were waiting for our signal. They were waiting for us to signal that we were in position. I never thought I would see the day when we all finally rise up and look the “Big Willies,” sharks, snakes, misogynists, exploiters and drug dealers-turned-executives in the face and kiss them their last goodbyes. But finally the time was upon us.

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from The Wooden Tongue, released December 31, 2004

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