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Tangletown

de Ian Moss

Tangletown, yeah yeah,
Tangletown.
Hey siter when you see,
the city life on the colour TV.
The temptation is known to us all,
Hey little sister, don't you fall,
for Tangletown.

Hey brother, stay on the farm.
Our daddy needs your strong right arm.
There's no land of milk and honey.
There ain't no jobs and there ain't no money,
In Tangletown.
Ain't no money in Tangletown..
Lebanese food, lagos soul.
Black American rock and roll.
Swimmin' in the sun, the papaya, the lies.
The money, the games, the fish and the flies.
In the petrol fumes,
the little girls ripe and bleed for a priest or a white man.
You know a cane knife is the sweetest blade,
In a cane-cutters hand, that got ever made.
And out in the fields of negros occidental,
a young man howls at the cane and the jungle.

Oh my lover, stay with me.
I am poor and I'll never be free.
I'm afraid the Americans'll buy your,
beautiful body with the almighty dollar,
if you leave me for Tangletown.

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