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Song Info
Genre
Charts
#119,041 today
Peak #988
#1,882 in subgenre
Peak #15
Author
Sage Francis
Uploaded
May 23, 2006
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.9 MB • 128 kbps • 2:49
Lyrics
song: Slow Down Gandhi
written by: Sage Francis
album: A Healthy Distrust
label: Epitaph Records
there once was a song called "arrest the president."
contemporary music. a hit with the kids. it was a top ten.
i wasn't pop then so i missed the bus a bit.
but politics, it was on everybody's hot-this-summer list.
the cool kids were all rocking votes.
i shit you not. i was pistol whipping cops for hiphop.
up on a soap box...yelling into megaphones
killing hard rocks and using carcasses as stepping stones.
i had to promise that i'd stop holding my marches
the day that chris columbus got crucified on golden arches.
but my pedestal was too tall to climb off.
in fact, that's the reason for the high horse.
and from up here i see the marines in hummers on a conquest.
underdogs with wonderbras in a push up contest.
all for the sake of military recruitment.
it felt like kent state the way they targeted the students.
so i galloped off whistling "ohio."
the rest of 'em were stuck doing stand up at a cricket convention.
who would they die for?
is it the same machine that leaves the quality of life poor?
an abominable colony of cyborgs
clogging up the property that i bought with eye sores.
that clever ad campaign ain't worth
the time taken from minimum-waged labor.
i don't care how half naked or fake she looks.
she smells like dirty cash and aged paper books.
who would she die for? (slow down gandhi, you're killin' 'em)
now it's whistle blower vs the pistol holder. case dismissed.
they'll lock you up and throw away the key witness.
justice is the whim of a judge. check his chest density.
it leaves much room for error, and the rest is left to destiny.
the west memphis 3 lost paradise.
now it's death penalty vs suicidal tendencies.
all i wanted was a fucking pepsi.
institution. making you think you're crazy is a billion dollar industry.
if they could sell sanity in a bottle they'd be charging for compressed air.
they're marketing health care.
they demonized welfare. middle class eliminated.
the rich get richer 'til the poor get educated.
but some of y'all still haven't grown into your face.
and your face doesn't quite match your head.
and i'm waiting for a brain to fill that dead space that's left.
you're all "give me ethnicity or give me dreads!"
trustafundian rebel without a cause for alarm.
because when push turns to shove you jump into your forefather's arms.
he's a banker. you're part of the system.
off go the dreadlocks, in comes the income.
the briefcase, the freebase, the sickness, the symptom.
when the cameras start rolling stay the fuck out of the picture, pilgrim.
slow down gandhi, you're killin' 'em.
mr. save the world...spare us the details.
save the females from losing interest.
and miss save the universe...you're a damsel in distress
tied down to a track of isolated incidents.
generalize my disease. i need a taste of what it's like
living off the fat of kings. i'll play the scab at your hunger strike.
slow down gandhi you're killin' 'em
one love, one life, one too many victims.
republicrat, democran, one-party system.
media goes in a frenzy. they're stripped of their credentials.
presidential candidates can't debate over this instrumental.
let 'em freestyle. winner takes all.
when the music's dead, i'll have ted nugent's head hanging on my wall.
kill one of ours...we'll kill one of yours with some "friendly fire."
that's a funny term...like "civil war."
6 in the morning police at my crib.
now my nights consist of two toothpicks and eyelids.
a crucifix and vitamins. music that is pirated.
new flavored food made of mutated hybrids.
ughhh! they tell me that it's not...that...bad.
it fucks you up good, but it's not...that...bad.
they hold onto these tales 'til it's the dog...that...wags.
god save us all if he lets the cat out the bag.
who's the one to blame for the strain of my vocal cords?
who can pen a hatefu
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