Keziah Jones Dear Mr Cooper
Seen a face I don't recognize Making discord, turning my days sadder Don't confuse the word ostracise It'll make it fit more or disorganise matter It's all in your game, yeah. It's all in your game. Dear Mr Cooper, I believe that you're a man of musical taste You will therefore be aware of the pain And heartache, that contradictions makes They say music is a river, yet it flows on Regardless of the profits that make you quiver So as we deliver the river your reply we anticipate Yours, Theo His response was pure mental Jazz A sobering vastness where shiny ebony forms Dance in dark glasses Such a tragic display of our racial identity Would make John Coltrane, Kwame Nkrumah Wail in their graves! As we stand here waiting to be saved