i stepped out on a celluloid night   that flickered on a black and white reel   looking for something that i could not explain   i could only feel   these were the songs upheld by the shades   that spoke to me as i left town   israelites, the harder they come, 56-47   i hear them now   and the words of the prophets never sounded   as good as the echo of a hard one drop   to be forever enslaved by the sound the creator made --   don't let it stop      come again, midnight passenger   there to accompany down   to the end of the souls lost avenue   feel it now      i kept walking in the dust all night   looking for a diamond in the crush   halfway under in bars like a ship that was going down -- or coming up   it was not the sun that stung,   but the feel of loss and the voice of suffering and fate   till i just stopped listening to the chatter of all those yesterdays -- crime pays      we will show up with all our secret problems   and if we can't find land   there's a tone written into soul songs that understands   we will be free