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.