SIXTO RODRIGUEZ

Inner City Blues

.

.
Going down a dirty inner city side road
I plotted

Madness passed me by, she smiled hi
I nodded

Looked up as the sky began to cry
She shot it.

Met a girl from Dearborn, early six o'clock this morn
A cold fact

Asked about her bag, suburbia's such a drag
Won't go back

'Cos Papa don't allow no new ideas here

And now he sees the news, but the picture's not too clear.

Mama, Papa, stop
Treasure what you got
Soon you may be caught
Without it

The curfew's set for eight
Will it ever all be straight
I doubt it.

7 jealous fools playing by her rules
Can't believe her

He feels so in between, can't break the scene
It would grieve her

And that's the reason why he must cry
He'll never leave her.

Crooked children, yellow chalk
writing on the concrete walk
Their King died

Drinking from a Judas cup,
looking down but seeing up
Sweet red wine

'Cos Papa don't allow no new ideas here

And now you hear the music, but the words don't sound too clear.

Mama, Papa, stop
Treasure what you got
Soon you may be caught
Without it

The curfew's set for eight
Will it ever all be straight
I doubt it.

Going down a dusty, Georgian side road
I wonder

The wind splashed in my face
can smell a trace
Of thunder

Comments

Ranx said…
Man, i love Rodriguez. I always felt sorry for his being called "sixth" though. :-)
Stu said…
haha true