Old Time Folks (Invocation) Songtext
"This is the way things are now"
But she always said, "This is not the way they always have to be"
And so, I kind of learned from my mother how to both
Live in the existing world
And at the same time, inhabit an imaginary
You know, what, how do I, how
How can I imagine Birmingham of the future?
Carry us, Black Warrior, through hushed thickets, holy mounds, sun-blazed fields
Dead-white seas of cotton, the black fog of the mills
But she always said, "This is not the way they always have to be"
And so, I kind of learned from my mother how to both
Live in the existing world
And at the same time, inhabit an imaginary
You know, what, how do I, how
How can I imagine Birmingham of the future?
Carry us, Black Warrior, through hushed thickets, holy mounds, sun-blazed fields
Dead-white seas of cotton, the black fog of the mills
The oil-slicked, deep-stained Gulf, so we can know and trust and feel
From whom all of our blessings flow
Mvskoke saints facin' mechanized conquistadors and privatized troops
Defendin' land and old souls from the priests and the suits
Tallassee, Tallahassee, Tulsa, freedom is a holy old town
That movеs down a mean, snaky road
Black rebels grippin' microphonеs, fountain pens, AKs, and cane knives
The barons hiding behind white hoods and redlines
Hissin' lies to sunburnt rabble holding bullwhips and 9's
Drums in the streets and swamps growin' loud
From tent villages, red-brick projects, dusty co-ops, secret freedom schools
Igbo poets, Bantu scholars, rebel peasants of British rule
To white mansions and glass towers, bankers and Big Mules
Peekin' through the blinds at the churnin' crowd
Risin' up like a mighty cloud
Of old-time folks Old-time folks
Yeah, we're just old-time folks
Yeah, we're just old-time folks
Cherokee and Mayan survivors bangin' on Appalachian prison bars
Communist lawyers and sharecroppers parting courthouse lynch mobs
Queer angels, prophetesses, walkin', talkin' with God
Bush-arbor, street-corner, briar patch
Downtown moaning sub-bass invocations, sanctified blues of
Conjure women, Greek priests, Muslim MC's, down-home Jews
Their eyes flashin' gentle and wild among the blooms
Of tear gas, gun smoke, and coal-ash
Child, the Lord don't make no trash
Just old-time folks
Old-time folks
Yeah, we're just old-time folks
We're old-time folks
We ain't machines
We ain't monsters
We ain't numbers
We got names
This ain't a brand (Brand)
This ain't a look (Look)
This ain't content
It's stories, we're all stories
And we're old-time folks
Yeah, we're old-time folks
Yeah, we're old-time
We're old-time folks
From whom all of our blessings flow
Mvskoke saints facin' mechanized conquistadors and privatized troops
Defendin' land and old souls from the priests and the suits
Tallassee, Tallahassee, Tulsa, freedom is a holy old town
That movеs down a mean, snaky road
Black rebels grippin' microphonеs, fountain pens, AKs, and cane knives
The barons hiding behind white hoods and redlines
Hissin' lies to sunburnt rabble holding bullwhips and 9's
Drums in the streets and swamps growin' loud
From tent villages, red-brick projects, dusty co-ops, secret freedom schools
Igbo poets, Bantu scholars, rebel peasants of British rule
To white mansions and glass towers, bankers and Big Mules
Peekin' through the blinds at the churnin' crowd
Risin' up like a mighty cloud
Of old-time folks Old-time folks
Yeah, we're just old-time folks
Yeah, we're just old-time folks
Cherokee and Mayan survivors bangin' on Appalachian prison bars
Communist lawyers and sharecroppers parting courthouse lynch mobs
Queer angels, prophetesses, walkin', talkin' with God
Bush-arbor, street-corner, briar patch
Downtown moaning sub-bass invocations, sanctified blues of
Conjure women, Greek priests, Muslim MC's, down-home Jews
Their eyes flashin' gentle and wild among the blooms
Of tear gas, gun smoke, and coal-ash
Child, the Lord don't make no trash
Just old-time folks
Old-time folks
Yeah, we're just old-time folks
We're old-time folks
We ain't machines
We ain't monsters
We ain't numbers
We got names
This ain't a brand (Brand)
This ain't a look (Look)
This ain't content
It's stories, we're all stories
And we're old-time folks
Yeah, we're old-time folks
Yeah, we're old-time
We're old-time folks
