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flobots - the last straw part 2000 lyrics

dollarman: i need a dollar– need to hit the stall to call the mall. anybody can give it to me – y’all or y’all or y’all. put it down next the wall and i’ll holler holler. c’mon y’all or y’all, all i need is a dollar. need to hit the stall to call the mall. anybody can give it to me y’all or y’all… gudder: …naw man, the cops shot some homeless black dude.

sk8r: hey gudder, you got pot?

home b-ss: …i guess i’m not shopping today…

n cents: …what’s happening on? is it kwanzaa or something…

loner: …i wanna feel like i belong to something

old timer (muttering in background): see, white people keep on puttin all their sh-t on us, dumpin sinful stuff, lettin it rust. now we’re covered in a ring of trash. they hear us singing and claim they’re discoverin how to be human beings. but i don’t match their theories. i could speak clearly, but they’d never listen to me they can’t hear me. so bring it back now down past lincoln ashes. they be on some ring of trash sh-t. the upper right side of the screen is just a dumpster. that’s it! and television wants to show my black -ss with a head of a monster. it’s partly tied to opposites. police sketches just reflects the dark side of the populus. man this sh-t’s aparthide, i should just…

andre benjamin (playing from p-ssing car): …and then it spread to white and got everyone’s undivided attention…

lil todd: they had a big boat for a cruise. and a whale jumped over the boat, and he was blue. and he didn’t flew. he only jumped and then, you know what? um… i thought of something else. the people were surprised. they thought he was rude, but mom, he was just being himself!

negativ 1 a.k.a. jonny 6: ..but i’m a little scared, cuz i don’t really know how time works.when it comes down to it i hope that i’m first.my ryhmes burst with the way i feel for you, the way i’d lie cheat beg borrow steal for you keep it real for you when you give me the right smile if you want me too i’ll change my lifestyle i’m stuck on you but i’m not gonna free my hand you’re the type of woman make a boy…

slanga: hip-hop hip-hop, everybody hip-hop. just got the producer here in this shop. f-ck that other b-st-rd’s here and it’s hot. yes ya’ll — we’re down with the real, the real…

sinakul: …impossible, impossible…

klean-kut: …and at that time my wife was in the hospital…

prof: …we’ve reached the death of the metanarrative, end of the line. now it’s “sampled”, circling, cycling line segments of time…

greef (on a cell phone): …hovering over the benches, no you know, them new ones you can’t sleep on, yeah them blue ones…

the doobiest: …i wouldn’t, maybe you would, i don’t know maybe you couldn’t, i don’t know but i could but i wouldn’t…

tammy: …the part that’s frightening./ what’s hard is/deciding that you never/start a fight. well we already/ tried. that’s how my father/ died, and it wasn’t worth/ it. plus it doesn’t/ work cuz i hurt half a/ dozen jerks tryin to jack/ my cousin’s shirt.

dude one: …working with a totally lame gun dude, and he stroked so hard his hand became numb, dude. dude two: who? dude one: that one dude…

mitch: …your own little slice of life one for each one of us, blue pie and everyone gets a piece…

outdoor crowd (chanting): no justice, no peace

revolvr: brothers and sisters… brothers and sisters… brothers and sisters, i give up. you can tell the government i’ve had enough. this game isn’t fun anymore so that’s it. ladies and gentlemen, i quit. man, cuz they shot him–wanted to get him off of the bench, and they got him. couldn’t tolerate so awful a stench but he’s rotten now and he still smells foul. six feet from the bottom he was still too proud so they lynched him. yes-because of his race, they rinsed him with the blood from a hole in his face. he lay still, but they still put him in his place. still black taking too much sp-ce.

so hey…

don’t tell me about nonviolence. don’t tell me about martin luther king. don’t tell me about due process. don’t tell me what songs to sing. don’t tell me about healing, staring at the ceiling, appealing to the most high. don’t tell me about dialogue. don’t tell me bout both sides. don’t tell me about race relations, patience, “be more like the asians”. don’t tell me how i’m feeling, really, don’t tell how i’m feeling. don’t tell me bout quiet. don’t tell me about nonviolence.

my great great-grampa died in the tulsa race riots and it was violent. and it was twilit on the ground in the town when they killed everybody inside it and then denied it and tried to hide it. this is the sound of silence.

but don’t tell me about nonviolence. don’t tell me about nonviolence. don’t tell me about nonviolence til bombs stop droppin on carribean islands. don’t tell me bout “we shall overcome”, pig, while ya holdin a gun. don’t tell me turn the other cheek, faker. don’t tell me bout the peacemakers. don’t tell me about quakers. don’t tell me about king. don’t tell me about gandhi. don’t tell me about dreams. don’t tell me about how if you just work hard you can make it. don’t tell me about risk takers. don’t tell me about sh-t, faker! i want my mule and my forty acres! don’t tell me about non-violence. don’t tell me about non-violence. don’t tell us about non-violence. what do you know about non-violence. what do you know about non-violence.

- flobots lyrics

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