| Song | Mr. Nichols |
| Artist | Coldcut |
| Album | Mr. Nichols |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Saul Williams: | |
| Please Mr. Nichols come back inside the window | |
| I can't promise you anything, but I trust that there is far greater reason to live | |
| I know you've become disheartened and disillusioned by the current state of affairs | |
| Your stocks are falling, your investments have failed you | |
| The man from whom you took orders has been ordered to jail by his and your subordinates | |
| You question what is this world coming to | |
| What is the profit margin when you're forced to pander to the marginalized | |
| Where's the glory you dreamt of as a child.. | |
| Dressed as a cowboy, your play gun pointed at real targets | |
| Your mother, holding her tongue as your father consoles her with the words.. | |
| “it's just boy stuff” | |
| Well | |
| You joined his fraternity, you grew into his old suits | |
| You acquired his beliefs, you embodied his dreams and with them his oversights. | |
| How long did you think it would last? | |
| It's just a matter of time. | |
| The world is far from over. | |
| Look... | |
| Your mother outlives your father, | |
| Your sister outlives your brother. | |
| And if you jump from this window today.. | |
| She'll also outlive you. | |
| Look at her, sitting in her midwestern home, tuned into Oprah once again | |
| Today, she learns to meditate on a second-hand couch. | |
| Meanwhile, you stand outside this window | |
| Twelve stories above the ground | |
| One story remaining untold... | |
| You contemplate the setting sun, | |
| Unaware of your disorientation. | |
| Dis-orient: turned away from the east. | |
| The shifting current seems to conspire against you. | |
| Mr. Nichols, you fail to see that you've always stood outside of this window, perched on the threshold of oblivion. | |
| Countless man made stories above the truth | |
| For so long you've stood facing the setting sun | |
| Mistaking the complimentary unified duality of nature as being right or wrong | |
| Good or evil | |
| God or devil | |
| Mr. Nichols instead of stepping from this ledge into the downfall of your up rise | |
| Why not just turn around | |
| Lessen the intensity of your western glare and face the rising sun | |
| Note the energy swirling from its center | |
| How it illumines us all and only the birds fly first class... | |
| There is your inheritance! | |
| The warmth of a kiss | |
| Invest your tongue into the mouth of mystery | |
| Allow her breath to seep into your lungs and surrender to her touch and guidance | |
| There's no other way | |
| Your dreams of dominance will only help you forsake yourself | |
| While your family continues its search for understanding | |
| And your daughters outlive your sons... |
| Saul Williams: | |
| Please Mr. Nichols come back inside the window | |
| I can' t promise you anything, but I trust that there is far greater reason to live | |
| I know you' ve become disheartened and disillusioned by the current state of affairs | |
| Your stocks are falling, your investments have failed you | |
| The man from whom you took orders has been ordered to jail by his and your subordinates | |
| You question what is this world coming to | |
| What is the profit margin when you' re forced to pander to the marginalized | |
| Where' s the glory you dreamt of as a child.. | |
| Dressed as a cowboy, your play gun pointed at real targets | |
| Your mother, holding her tongue as your father consoles her with the words.. | |
| " it' s just boy stuff" | |
| Well | |
| You joined his fraternity, you grew into his old suits | |
| You acquired his beliefs, you embodied his dreams and with them his oversights. | |
| How long did you think it would last? | |
| It' s just a matter of time. | |
| The world is far from over. | |
| Look... | |
| Your mother outlives your father, | |
| Your sister outlives your brother. | |
| And if you jump from this window today.. | |
| She' ll also outlive you. | |
| Look at her, sitting in her midwestern home, tuned into Oprah once again | |
| Today, she learns to meditate on a secondhand couch. | |
| Meanwhile, you stand outside this window | |
| Twelve stories above the ground | |
| One story remaining untold... | |
| You contemplate the setting sun, | |
| Unaware of your disorientation. | |
| Disorient: turned away from the east. | |
| The shifting current seems to conspire against you. | |
| Mr. Nichols, you fail to see that you' ve always stood outside of this window, perched on the threshold of oblivion. | |
| Countless man made stories above the truth | |
| For so long you' ve stood facing the setting sun | |
| Mistaking the complimentary unified duality of nature as being right or wrong | |
| Good or evil | |
| God or devil | |
| Mr. Nichols instead of stepping from this ledge into the downfall of your up rise | |
| Why not just turn around | |
| Lessen the intensity of your western glare and face the rising sun | |
| Note the energy swirling from its center | |
| How it illumines us all and only the birds fly first class... | |
| There is your inheritance! | |
| The warmth of a kiss | |
| Invest your tongue into the mouth of mystery | |
| Allow her breath to seep into your lungs and surrender to her touch and guidance | |
| There' s no other way | |
| Your dreams of dominance will only help you forsake yourself | |
| While your family continues its search for understanding | |
| And your daughters outlive your sons... |
| Saul Williams: | |
| Please Mr. Nichols come back inside the window | |
| I can' t promise you anything, but I trust that there is far greater reason to live | |
| I know you' ve become disheartened and disillusioned by the current state of affairs | |
| Your stocks are falling, your investments have failed you | |
| The man from whom you took orders has been ordered to jail by his and your subordinates | |
| You question what is this world coming to | |
| What is the profit margin when you' re forced to pander to the marginalized | |
| Where' s the glory you dreamt of as a child.. | |
| Dressed as a cowboy, your play gun pointed at real targets | |
| Your mother, holding her tongue as your father consoles her with the words.. | |
| " it' s just boy stuff" | |
| Well | |
| You joined his fraternity, you grew into his old suits | |
| You acquired his beliefs, you embodied his dreams and with them his oversights. | |
| How long did you think it would last? | |
| It' s just a matter of time. | |
| The world is far from over. | |
| Look... | |
| Your mother outlives your father, | |
| Your sister outlives your brother. | |
| And if you jump from this window today.. | |
| She' ll also outlive you. | |
| Look at her, sitting in her midwestern home, tuned into Oprah once again | |
| Today, she learns to meditate on a secondhand couch. | |
| Meanwhile, you stand outside this window | |
| Twelve stories above the ground | |
| One story remaining untold... | |
| You contemplate the setting sun, | |
| Unaware of your disorientation. | |
| Disorient: turned away from the east. | |
| The shifting current seems to conspire against you. | |
| Mr. Nichols, you fail to see that you' ve always stood outside of this window, perched on the threshold of oblivion. | |
| Countless man made stories above the truth | |
| For so long you' ve stood facing the setting sun | |
| Mistaking the complimentary unified duality of nature as being right or wrong | |
| Good or evil | |
| God or devil | |
| Mr. Nichols instead of stepping from this ledge into the downfall of your up rise | |
| Why not just turn around | |
| Lessen the intensity of your western glare and face the rising sun | |
| Note the energy swirling from its center | |
| How it illumines us all and only the birds fly first class... | |
| There is your inheritance! | |
| The warmth of a kiss | |
| Invest your tongue into the mouth of mystery | |
| Allow her breath to seep into your lungs and surrender to her touch and guidance | |
| There' s no other way | |
| Your dreams of dominance will only help you forsake yourself | |
| While your family continues its search for understanding | |
| And your daughters outlive your sons... |