Amiri Baraka - A Contract. (For the Destruction and Rebuilding of Paterson lyrics

Flesh, and cars, tar, dug holes beneath stone a rude hierarchy of money, band saws cross out music, feeling. Even speech, corrodes. I came here from where I sat boiling in my veins, cold fear at the d**h of men, the d**h of learning, in cold fear, at my own. Romantic vests of same d**h blank at the corner, blank when they raise their fingers Criss the hearts, in dark flesh staggered so marvelous are their lies. So complete, their mastery, of these stupid n******gs. Loud spics k** each other, and will not make the simple trip to Tiffany's. Will not smash their stainless heads, against the simpler effrontery of so callous a code as gain. You are no brothers, dirty woogies, dying under dried rinds, in ma**a's droopy tuxedos. Cab Calloways of the soul, at the soul's juncture, a music, they think will save them from our eyes. (In back of the terminal where the circus will not go. At the backs of crowds, stooped and vulgar breathing hate syllables, unintelligible rapes of all that linger in our new world. k**ed in white fedora hats, they stand so mute at what whiter slaves did to my father. They muster silence. They pray at the steps of abstract prisons, to be kings, when all is silence, when all is stone. When even the stupid fruit of their loins is gold, or something else they cannot eat.