Cory is the one--she'll never ever die young

She'll be quite candid

And say we were drunks who couldn't make her come

Running with Revolt and Plutonium

In the canyons of Uranium

Rolling off a roulette on a Rampart Street

Here come the King of the Bayou

When should a beat get the blues?

If it's a subway pokergame you lose

If the Zulu King is on Main

Let's beat the parades and the crowds from the game

Rushing through the rush hour on an all-nighter

Never seen you look so young

The world really looks from this doughnut store

Such a funny colour in the sun

And in his style he's number one

Said the monkey of the three wise bums

Toting Mezzrow and up to the innocent

But he's seen what jammings been done

And they're selling tickets to the stadium

And the doors to the ceilings of our craniums

I was glad we were changing on the gradient

They were sweeping up with searchlights made of Radium

Everglade funk in a clubtown

For once the traffic's been conquered by the streets

Listening close the waterpools

You can hear the hiss and the leaks

And the rattling cans of the shuffling bands

Down the avenues of spare change

Forty blocks north in your memories

In the Indonesian fog and the rain

Cory is the one--she'll never ever die young

When should a beat get the blues?

If it's a subway pokergame you lose

Rolling off a route on a Rampart Street

Here comes the King of the Bayou.