Music: Lyric Sheets
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A Famous Flame
Aaaow!
Souped-up stripped down
James Brown hit town
In sodium shoes
And lacquer black
Magnesium were
The suits he wore
Straight cardiac
The music was
A gleaming thing
A chopped-up hot rod
Of a beast
Which honked and parped
In neon streets
All tubes and wheels
And bucket seats
A swamp of beat
And patch of ground
With metal chickens
Scratching round
A chanka-chank
Short-circuit sound
Of bitten-pillow ninths
A thing best met
In blackened clubs
Like someone coarse
You shouldn't know
Who squeezes something
Down below
And hurrs into your ear
And when it leaks
From underground
Still has a half-life
In your head
A cloven-footed shimmy
Of a bass
To make the dead
Wake horny-eyed in bed
A-huh. Get on up!
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