1957 Lyrics

Song	1957
Artist	Buck 65
Album	Situation
Download	Image LRC TXT

	I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed.
	Devoid of conviction, conflicted, annoyed.
	Kicked at and worn down. 6 6 6.
	Beat. Looking for the next quick fix.
	Unpopular prophets with problems
	Up against angels in disguise who want to rob them;
	Who didn’t want to end up crushed by god’s embrace
	In the age of the cold wind blowing and dogs in space;
	Who’s faces are fading.
	They’re the loneliest drunk.
	In empty rooms haunted by
	Thelonious
	Monk.Felonious punks and plate glass squares
	That see empty eyes that look straight past theirs.
	Street walking cheetahs with a gun in each hand
	Who are lost at sea and are desperate to reach land.
	Orpheus descending.
	Swimming in the crooked waters.
	Hello Sid
	Vicious, goodbye
	Brooklyn Dodgers...
	No joke. Hit the low note.
	We all go to heaven in a little row boat.1957
	Chevy Bel
	Air. Interior velvet especially.
	Bloody probably.
	Stereo: Buddy
	Holly, Elvis
	Presley.Black
	Flame Trilogy.
	Quadruple louder bass.
	Battle sites.
	Little Rock.
	Satellites in outer space
	Words won’t help but a few bucks can.
	Crew cuts and black leather.
	Ku Klux Klan.
	Men wear hats.
	In fact, harems are shared.
	Opiates addicted to and parents scared.
	The underground is real.
	Delivered greens to river queens.
	Perpetual motion of free-thinkers and libertines.
	Who suffer alone all night with pains
	Hooked on drums and who fight with chains.
	It’s Faulkner and
	Baldwin. Insult and curse reality.
	Spy vs. spy and the cult of personality.
	What can the numbers and the words in my head mean?
	Killroy was here and so was
	Buster Crab and
	Ed Gein.No joke.
	Hit the low note.
	We all go to heaven in a little row boat.
	The pen keeps moving in attempt to sink the jingoes.
	Fight ‘em with hula hoops, frisbees and pink flamingoes.
	Up running all night.
	Late sleep ordered.‘
	Have gun will travel’.
	Great leap forward.
	Man on the corner with dark glasses free and preaching.
	Appetite is monstrous.
	Diet is Dionysian.
	All over the world, so much peril in one show.
	Playwright
	Arthur Miller marries
	Marilyn Monroe.
	Hard rain falling.
	Babies sleeping in
	God’s palms.
	Alarm clocks ringing.
	Warrior monks and bomb squads.
	Invasion Of
	The Body Snatchers.
	Clairvoyants and mediums.
	Believers in nothing.
	Speed freaks and bohemians.
	Red is the new black.
	Identity files.
	Rebels and grand dragons.
	Obscenity trials.
	Lolita and
	Bobby Fisher country.
	No part is red,
	Just black and white.
	Humphrey Bogart is dead.
	No joke. Hit the low note.
	We all go to heaven in a little row boat.

	I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed.
	Devoid of conviction, conflicted, annoyed.
	Kicked at and worn down. 6 6 6.
	Beat. Looking for the next quick fix.
	Unpopular prophets with problems
	Up against angels in disguise who want to rob them
	Who didn' t want to end up crushed by god' s embrace
	In the age of the cold wind blowing and dogs in space
	Who' s faces are fading.
	They' re the loneliest drunk.
	In empty rooms haunted by
	Thelonious
	Monk. Felonious punks and plate glass squares
	That see empty eyes that look straight past theirs.
	Street walking cheetahs with a gun in each hand
	Who are lost at sea and are desperate to reach land.
	Orpheus descending.
	Swimming in the crooked waters.
	Hello Sid
	Vicious, goodbye
	Brooklyn Dodgers...
	No joke. Hit the low note.
	We all go to heaven in a little row boat. 1957
	Chevy Bel
	Air. Interior velvet especially.
	Bloody probably.
	Stereo: Buddy
	Holly, Elvis
	Presley. Black
	Flame Trilogy.
	Quadruple louder bass.
	Battle sites.
	Little Rock.
	Satellites in outer space
	Words won' t help but a few bucks can.
	Crew cuts and black leather.
	Ku Klux Klan.
	Men wear hats.
	In fact, harems are shared.
	Opiates addicted to and parents scared.
	The underground is real.
	Delivered greens to river queens.
	Perpetual motion of freethinkers and libertines.
	Who suffer alone all night with pains
	Hooked on drums and who fight with chains.
	It' s Faulkner and
	Baldwin. Insult and curse reality.
	Spy vs. spy and the cult of personality.
	What can the numbers and the words in my head mean?
	Killroy was here and so was
	Buster Crab and
	Ed Gein. No joke.
	Hit the low note.
	We all go to heaven in a little row boat.
	The pen keeps moving in attempt to sink the jingoes.
	Fight ' em with hula hoops, frisbees and pink flamingoes.
	Up running all night.
	Late sleep ordered.'
	Have gun will travel'.
	Great leap forward.
	Man on the corner with dark glasses free and preaching.
	Appetite is monstrous.
	Diet is Dionysian.
	All over the world, so much peril in one show.
	Playwright
	Arthur Miller marries
	Marilyn Monroe.
	Hard rain falling.
	Babies sleeping in
	God' s palms.
	Alarm clocks ringing.
	Warrior monks and bomb squads.
	Invasion Of
	The Body Snatchers.
	Clairvoyants and mediums.
	Believers in nothing.
	Speed freaks and bohemians.
	Red is the new black.
	Identity files.
	Rebels and grand dragons.
	Obscenity trials.
	Lolita and
	Bobby Fisher country.
	No part is red,
	Just black and white.
	Humphrey Bogart is dead.
	No joke. Hit the low note.
	We all go to heaven in a little row boat.

	I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed.
	Devoid of conviction, conflicted, annoyed.
	Kicked at and worn down. 6 6 6.
	Beat. Looking for the next quick fix.
	Unpopular prophets with problems
	Up against angels in disguise who want to rob them
	Who didn' t want to end up crushed by god' s embrace
	In the age of the cold wind blowing and dogs in space
	Who' s faces are fading.
	They' re the loneliest drunk.
	In empty rooms haunted by
	Thelonious
	Monk. Felonious punks and plate glass squares
	That see empty eyes that look straight past theirs.
	Street walking cheetahs with a gun in each hand
	Who are lost at sea and are desperate to reach land.
	Orpheus descending.
	Swimming in the crooked waters.
	Hello Sid
	Vicious, goodbye
	Brooklyn Dodgers...
	No joke. Hit the low note.
	We all go to heaven in a little row boat. 1957
	Chevy Bel
	Air. Interior velvet especially.
	Bloody probably.
	Stereo: Buddy
	Holly, Elvis
	Presley. Black
	Flame Trilogy.
	Quadruple louder bass.
	Battle sites.
	Little Rock.
	Satellites in outer space
	Words won' t help but a few bucks can.
	Crew cuts and black leather.
	Ku Klux Klan.
	Men wear hats.
	In fact, harems are shared.
	Opiates addicted to and parents scared.
	The underground is real.
	Delivered greens to river queens.
	Perpetual motion of freethinkers and libertines.
	Who suffer alone all night with pains
	Hooked on drums and who fight with chains.
	It' s Faulkner and
	Baldwin. Insult and curse reality.
	Spy vs. spy and the cult of personality.
	What can the numbers and the words in my head mean?
	Killroy was here and so was
	Buster Crab and
	Ed Gein. No joke.
	Hit the low note.
	We all go to heaven in a little row boat.
	The pen keeps moving in attempt to sink the jingoes.
	Fight ' em with hula hoops, frisbees and pink flamingoes.
	Up running all night.
	Late sleep ordered.'
	Have gun will travel'.
	Great leap forward.
	Man on the corner with dark glasses free and preaching.
	Appetite is monstrous.
	Diet is Dionysian.
	All over the world, so much peril in one show.
	Playwright
	Arthur Miller marries
	Marilyn Monroe.
	Hard rain falling.
	Babies sleeping in
	God' s palms.
	Alarm clocks ringing.
	Warrior monks and bomb squads.
	Invasion Of
	The Body Snatchers.
	Clairvoyants and mediums.
	Believers in nothing.
	Speed freaks and bohemians.
	Red is the new black.
	Identity files.
	Rebels and grand dragons.
	Obscenity trials.
	Lolita and
	Bobby Fisher country.
	No part is red,
	Just black and white.
	Humphrey Bogart is dead.
	No joke. Hit the low note.
	We all go to heaven in a little row boat.

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