Hungry Blue Heat Lyrics

© Electric Babylon Music Author: M.M.

The heat is like some kind of pressing demon, and it takes away even
more than I have to give, my hands look like there three lifetimes old,
and I mostly die everyday so that I can barely live, I dream of cool
waters and freedom, from rolling this stone everyday, and when I see a
keyhole of light I’m going to blow, and I pity anyone in my way.
I wana pay it off but the debt just grows, a mans only worth what he
owes, don’t wana end up being another victim of the street, sweating
in the hungry blue heat.
When opportunity knocks I just get suspicious, I mean why would it
want to kick in the door, with paranoia on my breath I sharpen the
night, till I’ve had just enough to want a little more, I’m a victim but
I’ve got a killers pride, and I’ll get even with a sailors luck, and you
your just dressed up garbage, you’ve done worse than me just to make
a buck.
The best man is the one who keeps his mouth shut, or you wind up in
the ally with your throat cut, so you just learn to play the loser if you
get beat, you can’t stay cool in this hungry blue heat.
The best you can hope for is understanding, the worst you can get is
forgiveness, but you can bath in the agony of your sins, until your
clean and painless, and sorrow is the price you pay, for believing
anything is free, just turn your head the other way, if your the type that
believes everything you see.
It will turn you into something you didn’t know you were, you’ll loose
her love and then you’ll loose her, and you’ll revel in your past and
thrive on your defeat, if you get burned by the hungry blue heat.
You come to the intersection and you just can’t stop, you blame on the
bankrupt electronics of some traffic light, and there’s music angels and
omens in the air, but that just makes it easier for wrong to feel right,
and at the center of the spin of indifference, you wait an eternal instant
for clarity, you want the hangman’s faith the judge’s proof, but you
have to try to make it on random bits of charity.
You see I just couldn’t find a way to make the little things matter, I
wanted to eat my words off a silver platter, from a sacred cow to just
another piece of meat, swallowed by the hungry blue heat.

July 97

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