The Streets

That's it, turn the page on the day, walk away
Cause there's sense in what I say
I'm forty-fifth generation Roman
But I don't know 'em or care when I'm spitting
So return to your sitting position and listen
It's fitting, I'm miles ahead and they chase me
Show your face on TV then we'll see, you can't do half
My crew laughs at your rhubarb-and-custard verses
You rain down curses but I'm waving your hearses driving by
Streets riding high with the beats in the sky
All stare, eyes glazed, Garage burnt down
The fire raged for forty days and in forty ways
But through the blaze they see it fade
The sea of black, the beaming heat on their faces
Then a figure emerges from the wastage
Eyes transfixed with a piercing gaze
One hand clutching his sword raised to the sky
They wonder how, they wonder why
The sky turns white, it all becomes clear
They felt lifted from their fears
They shed tears, in the light after six dark years
Young bold soldiers, the fire burns, crackles and smoulders
Five years older and wiser
The fires are burning, on fire, never tire
Slay warriors in the forests, and on higher we sing
Hear the strings rising, the war's over, the bells ring