The Beatific

Know-nothing bohemians, arcane and lenient
Disobedient hicks addicted to the main ingredient
There’s more of us. It’s safe to assume there’s a movement
Drown in doubt. Down and out. There’s room for improvement
Casualties, gradually wreaking havoc, wrecking spots
Connect the dots. No such thing as second thoughts
Representatives of new truth and evidence. Hardly darker
Cycles and currents. Disciples of Charlie Parker

Che Guevera, rock star. Fuck off
The beat, the beat beat. [2x]

The plot thickens! The clock’s ticking. Time’s already brief
On the road and underground. The steady grief of the petty thief
The hustler. Muscular body, lazy brain
Riding the crazy train. Link in the daisy chain
Jism and Benzedrine. Booze and shock therapy
Heresy. We look dangerous and talk terribly
A nation of millions. Exclusive. Only the lonely
I know for a fact that your heroes are phony baloney
Maybe it shows. Known for the brainiest flows
Poems for no one spontaneous prose
It’s important. Vital. Complex text distorted
The coming of war and the next recording of Dexter Gordon
Vs. everything! The lowest life. Dizzy heights
Shitty sights. Shots in the dark and city lights
Laws of the lords. Applause and awards
Everything belongs to me because I am poor...

Che Guevera, rock star. Fuck off
The beat, the beat beat. [2x]

Abstract expression. No control. Hood jacket
Work boots. Swollen pockets. Stolen goods racket
Neutral. Camouflage. Better to show no style
Stay normal. Amoral. Keep a low profile
Smuggler. Fighter. Struggling writer. Pervert
Competitive fetishist. Bad seed, preferred dirt
Words hurt. Above and beyond extreme legality and censorship
Enter the new supreme reality

Che Guevera, rock star. Fuck off
The beat, the beat beat. [2x]