Lyrics:

I amI am searchingI am searching for faith, beauty and hip-hopI am searching for all those who died between hip hop and heavenAnd all souls set adrift and free from bedlamWith headstrong lyrics that rise like smoke from silver incense burnersI wonder who stole the thunder with the rasping edgeAnd who banged for baptisms with butterflies, serpentine roads and sunsets broken by cicadasHave we really lost our century in an hour?Are we devoured by blind faith in the powers that be?Are these words as tense as drawn bow strings?Shall we rebuild the tears like sap from rubber trees?Answer me!Answer me you T.S. Elliots in goose down jackets with your felt tip urban hieroglyphs, spliff smoke, and spray paintAnswer me you soliloquists with clenched fists 'round the mikeAnswer me you angels in adidasTell meDo M.C.'s still howl rhymes into the purple black of midnight?Do they still fight to make arrangements with deities courting them with a jangle of gold and silver bangles on their wrist?I need yearning voices of mangled passionI need rehearsed create those style of faith and fashionI'm searching for hip-hop beats, stomping feet to implore the ? ? ringing across the seagulls to muffle the sunI'm searching for perfumed cherry blossoms and ? You see there will be no toast to the future in the banquet table of ?No golden petals weaving a carpet of lightNo hint of arrogance on puckered lipsNo wind-swept islands and dreams of sun-lit silenceNo riot of flowers and beauty magnified through outmost attentionAnd no free-style incantations to save the souls of manI'm peeling off your straitjacket so you feel the sun my friendI want wings, a feather, and booms so we can fly like birds to better landsI'm wonderingI'm wondering how temples are now smokestacksI'm up all night in silvery moonlight with palms of ??Who stole my afro-pick?Who licked my fingertips to sooth scratches from the vinyl groove?Has anybody seen faith, beauty and hip hop?I have to find faith, beauty and Hip hop

Attica Blues The Quest