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Lyrics:Talking Time Travel

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by MC Paul Barman

(sung; from Shinbone Alley

I am only a poor, humble cockroach
But creative expression is the need of my soul
I'm little and I'm ugly and everybody sneers at me.
But I'm a poet, and my heart holds a flame

(All spoken)

Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to share with you a special talent
It ain't so hard to do, it's called time travellin'

Well, I woke up this morning feeling quite unpleasant,
Found I couldn't enjoy my present.
So I sat in my bed and tried to superimpose
Things I would have rather saw in front of my head.

I was time travelling,
Teleporting
Darn tootin'

Well, I travelled back to a different time
When people besides rappers enjoyed the rhyme.
One thing I can't comprehend
Is why poets nowadays don't call rhymes their friends.
Maybe I could be their friends, too.
Well, I must have been doin' something right
Hung out with the types of people
Who wrote, edited and updated Strunk & White

I was a travellin' troubador,
Village storyteller
I'd like to think so.

Well, it got a litte bit cold in my old log cabin,
So I devised a new mode of time travelling:
Instead of visual superimposition
I tried my hand at writing fiction
About things I ain't did yet,
But intended to do
And thereby make 'em happen.

Well, all of a sudden, my seat felt trembly
Found myself on a schoolbus to a school assembly
Where my supergroup was performing.
Well, you can be in my supergroup on one condition:
That you're my best friend, musician,
And don't mind unpaid conditions.
We was invited to the high school by the Peace Club
To fight the Fight Club
On their 100-watt light blub radio station.
Well, at that station, we met a kid, about 13,
Painted our schoolbus green
And called it the Joke-A-Minute Brain Machine.

He was bipolar,
Avant-garde,
High roller, savant tard
Well, on board that bus--I don't know why--
I got a hankerin' to learn to cry.
Now, learning to cry was quite a chore,
Just like doing anything you ain't never done before.

I was log flumin'
Jet streamin',
Quite relievin'

Well, I could have gone for the rest of the evening,
Or perhaps till the world ended,
When a moan from my girlfriend did bring me home
Next to her pillow.
Lookin' so gorgeous
(Don't like me to say so--
Thinks it's shallow).

(sung; from Shinbone Alley)

I will write your stories for you.
I don't need any credit or any salary,
All I ask is the right to create
My immortal poetry.

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