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SPOKEN: These are the times that try men's souls. In the course of our
nation's history the people of Boston have rallied bravely whenever the rights of
men have been threatened. Today, a new crisis has arisen. The Metropolitan
Transit Authority, better known as the MTA, is attempting to levy a burdensome tax
on the population in the form of a subway fare increase. Citizens, hear me out.
This could happen to you!!

Well, let me tell you of the story of a man named Charlie
On a tragic and fateful day
He put ten cents in his pocket, kissed his wife and family
Went to ride on the MTA

Well did he ever return, no he never returned
And his fate is still unlearned (what a pity)
He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston
He's the man who never returned

Charlie handed in his dime at the Kendall Square station
And he changed for Jamaica Plain
When he got there, the conductor told him "one more nickel"
Charlie couldn't get off of that train.

But did he ever return, no he never returned
And his fate is still unlearned (poor old Charlie)
He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston
He's the man who never returned

Now all night long Charlie rides through the station
Crying "what will become of me?"
"How can I afford to see my sister in Chelsea?"
"Or my cousin in Roxbury?"

But did he ever return, no he never returned
And his fate is still unlearned (shame and scandal)
He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston
He's the man who never returned

Charlie's wife goes down to the Scollay Square station
Every day at quarter past two
And through the open window she hands Charlie a sandwich
As the train comes rumblin' through.

Well did he ever return, no he never returned
And his fate is still unlearned (he may ride forever)
He may ride forever 'neath the streets of Boston
He's the man Je l'avais dit jadis à dix de mes disciples :
"L'esprit de 68 aujourd'hui se dissipe.
On jette l'éponge, tandis qu'ils lançaient des pavés.
La chanson engagée laisse place à la variet'
Et la dialectique new-age prend de l'essor.
Flou artistique, Jordy disque d'or,
L'industrie du disque dort d'un profond sommeil
Et la plèbe plébiscite et s'excite sur ce qu'elle aime
Et elle aime ce qu'on aime sur les radios F.M.
C'est le dernier "Ffff", d'un mythe de l'artiste
Qui s'est engagé, sur des principes d'éthique.
"Je ne sais plus" comme Positive black soul.
Ce style est du Solaar et le message est dit "radicool"
Tranquille je me place sur le temps,
Voici la funk mob à nous dans un instant."

Je l'avais dis jadis à dix de mes disciples.
Je l'avais dis jadis à dix de mes disciples.

Je laisse parler mon âme. Le rap avait besoin d'aide.
Il sort de la sclérose grâce au J.A.Z.Z.,
Pousse les limites de la boîte à rythmes.
Ternaire sont les rythmiques et naissent les mêmes mythes.
Le Jazz exprime depuis ses origines
Un feeling non mercantile, une profondeur de style.
C'était de la musique humaine évolutive,
Une révolution musicale, une résistance active.
Les milices musicales nous balancent à l'époque
Que c'est la dépravation, les négros et la dope
Alors je pèse soupèse ces kilos de foutaises niaises,
En fait la synthèse, pour dire qu'en 96,
Si le ra