Capitalist Americans, Lyrics/Arrangement for Voice, Tavarus Blackmon, 2012-2019

Percussion and Improvisation, Derek Kwan, 2019

So what’s up with these Capitalist Americans buying up everything; all the four bedroom modular homes, all the Ferrari’s, but especially, the white bread?

You’re a self-made-man, a plastic American

Put it in a package, burn it, eat out a frying pan, Never know which way to go, never know which way you can Reach upper enlightenment, your life is suburban, You drive a Suburban, your wife is a hurricane

Eating through the savings cause she’s Mrs. PacMan, You eat biscuits and gravy, beef and a burger

If she looks at you wrong, you know how you can hurt her, Cause you didn’t go to college and you can’t spell misogyny

Can’t stand your Mom, Pop’s is gone, resent your progeny, You put some rims on it, and ride it through the culture

You’re a money making darling but your lifestyle is a vulture, Yeah I’m picturing you rolling, but I’m blinded by your ego

You’re a selfish little child now you’re whining about your freedom, But you step on the poor man, body-check a baby

Put a message in a bottle, hoping, wishing for a maybe, But the Nike’s is clean, that’s all that seems important Get a gold chain, bling, ring, now you think you’re golden, But you got someone to blame, got a finger to point

But you can’t see the mirror cause you’re choking on a joint, Boom boom boom lies, I see it in your eyes

You can never know love, you’re copulating on the prize;

I said bass, bass, now it’s time for bass

I said bass, bass, now it’s time for bass

I said bass, bass, now it’s time for bass

I said cook it up, fry it up, put it in your face

©Tavarus Blackmon, 2019

You’re corrupt and a baby, a selfish little child

Buck-wild, no smile, but your emphasis is style, Lipstick and make-up, leather and a limp

You don’t respect your elders cause you just can’t learn it, Yeah the schoolin’ it was tough, so all you say is “like,”

You’re a Cali’ born girl with some heels and a perm, Predicate and verb, letters and a word

Never understood Lit’ cause intelligence absurd, Can’t spell, can’t write, you’re appealing to the masses

You’re an opiate I guess, it’s the battle of the classes, Shoes, belt, fits, and one thousand dollar glasses

Your ego is important but the purpose been subtracted, Add it, minus, a Fibonacci braid

Everyone is struggling but hey, you got it made, So Occupy and lie, then omit and deny it

The truth is important, so I cook it up and fry it, Buy it, sell it, commission for the cover

Send a stack to the Big Box, now that’s going under

I said bass, bass, now it’s time for bass

I said bass, bass, now it’s time for bass

I said bass, bass, now it’s time for bass

I said cook it up, fry it up, put it in your face

©Tavarus Blackmon, 2019