Kid creole killed all of his own people
Instigate the beat genuflecting
In the steeple
Video killed what we
Once
Stood for
Who we gonna look to now?
If these walls could speak
I wouldn’t tell them anything
Don’t ask me, don’t ask me
Press eject, and give me the tape
If you know what’s good for you
Ghetto blasting on the basement floor
Flash Gordon soundtrack,
I was in second grade.
My first real record, yeah,
worn down it played and played.
Young and blind,
my double mind.
When the world was black and white,
watch me turn my back tonight,
on Freddie Mercury,
Mr. Fahrenheit.
I was in eighth grade,
I said he was a queer,
I thought he had it coming,
he died of Aids that year.
My liberty,
like Christ’s death meant nothing to me.
When my veins choked thick with spite,
blind man’s bluff burns in hindsight,
for Freddie Mercury,
Mr. Fahrenheit.
Predisposed to bigotry,
the regular run-of-the-mill American story.
The stench of greasepaint on our faces,
pass the mask to our next of kin,
instead of wiser idioms,
like "love the sinner, hate the sin".
Feel the heat – in the street
Find out what your people are sayin’
Feel the heat – in the street
Find out what the people are sayin’
‘bout you! yeh you
Friends you keep – lie and cheat
Makin’ rules for games that they’re playin’
When you meet – on the street
You find out all along they’re playin’
Me against you
Bridge:
I don’t care what they say about me
I’ve heard that all before
Just make this one exception
Give me your affection
Listen to your heart for what you need
Feel the heat – in the street
You’re the one that keeps the boys dreamin’
If you feel the need – come to me
Or you may find what’s on your mind
May come true
