[ti:The Jungle Line]
[00:12.99]Rousseau walks on trumpet paths
[00:18.95]Safaris to the heart of all that jazz
[00:27.18]Through I bars and girders-through wires and pipes
[00:32.85]The mathematic circuits of the modern nights
[00:41.80]Through huts, through Harlem, through jails and gospel pews
[00:47.69]Through the class on Park and the trash on Vine
[00:52.78]Through Europe and the deep deep heart of Dixie blue
[00:58.70]Through savage progress cuts the jungle line
[01:13.87]In a low-cut blouse she brings the beer
[01:19.02]Rousseau paints a jungle flower behind her ear
[01:28.27]Those cannibals-of shuck and jive
[01:33.69]They'll eat a working girl like her alive
[01:42.75]With his hard-edged eye and his steady hand
[01:48.42]He paints the cellar full of ferns and orchid vines
[01:53.60]And he hangs a moon above a five-piece band
[01:59.99]He hangs it up above the jungle line
[02:14.38]The jungle line, the jungle line
[02:20.87]Screaming in a ritual of sound and time
[02:29.08]Floating, drifting on the air-conditioned wind
[02:34.75]And drooling for a taste of something smuggled in
[02:43.75]Pretty women funneled through valves and smoke
[02:49.46]Coy and bitchy, wild and fine
[02:54.86]And charging elephants and chanting slaving boats
[03:00.77]Charging, chanting down the jungle line
[03:15.48]There's a poppy wreath on a soldier's tomb
[03:21.19]There's a poppy snake in a dressing room
[03:30.45]Poppy poison-poppy tourniquet
[03:35.83]It slithers away on brass like mouthpiece spit
[03:44.58]And metal skin and ivory birds
[03:50.27]Go steaming up to Rousseau's vines
[03:55.70]They go steaming up to Brooklyn Bridge
[04:01.12]Steaming, steaming, steaming up the jungle line