They all sayin' that he's dead (Malcolm X) and every flower is still
Well I just wanna tell you Mama Rose, we are the victims
You know what am I gonna say to my sons?
Well I'm gonna tell them that death clocks the Potomac in a scarlet show!
And that the pillow beneath you is not here...
Well, I want you to take this ex-cannibal's kiss
and turn it into a Revolution!
Don't you know that my stale flem is the sludge of factories spat into the sky?
And the flies that hover over your yellow and crusted eyes
Well baby, they're the centurions of Hannibal wandering at you, lying there, your simmering hopes and jelly corpse turned up to the sky, like a putrefying Congolese
after the Americans "have come to help".