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Third Cell

from The Rebel Cell by Mud Sun

/

lyrics

The Third Cell

Mud Sun was pretty dope for social criticism though
You know; we both had skill with rhythm
And overcame most of the divisions
Between my liberalism
And your socialism
We disagreed over specifics but we had a clear vision
So, now where is it?

Lost to the slip of years and real living
You're selling stories to the system
I'm sitting here in prison

Yeah, like Paris Hilton

Yeah, shame isn't it?
We went from innovative spitters
To swilling beer and bickering

Yeah, it's sickening
But let's get back to the questioning
I know the past is festering
But tell me if it's true or not
Or just, say you blew the bomb
Then if you plead not guilty
Then you really are completely rejecting the rule of law?

Baba
It's been five years
Mud Sun's dead and you're successful
Why are your here?
Did you really want one last debate on politics
Is it for the scoop
Really?
Well, what is it?

It's a job

Business?

Yeah
I seek the truth and then find an audience to speak it to
But I also took this on because of me and you
I respect what you created

You do?

Yeah
Your right to resist is basic
But if you're evasive and you plead not guilty
Just to make a statement
Then face it
Your effort is wasted

Never wasted
Baba, you always thought too naively
First of all
I do object to the rule of this law completely
And second my defiance
However symbolic it might be
Might be the pressure that snaps the back of this society
And that possibility is enough to drive me

Even blindly?
Come on
If you try compromising just slightly
By defending your rights and protesting your innocence
But also admitting to the crimes that you did commit
Then you might get a little bit less than a life sentence
Like, twenty-seven years
Plus it sends the right message

No, I can't plead guilty
I've committed no crime
And I'll maintain that if it kills me
You have no idea what it's like here
Outside your ivory tower
Where the noose is pulled tighter each hour
And kids are cut down if they try to speak louder
It's not the Vancouver journo scene
It's not university
There's no space for debate or room for cowards
Sorry to be the vinegar on your silver spoon
But it's time someone tore the roof off your sheltered views

The year is 2008

credits

from The Rebel Cell, released August 1, 2008

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all rights reserved

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about

Baba Brinkman New York, New York

Science rapper and inventor of several novel hip-hop variants. Canadian transplant to New York. Pathological optimist.

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