99
The New York Hard Bop Quintet Lyrics
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Of clueless blues,
Pays the views,
And no-mans news.
Blades will fade from blood to sport,
The heroin's cut these fuses short,
Smokers rode a colonial pig, [Smoke is rolling colonial pink,]
Drink and frame this pain i think.
You bleed your wings and then disappear.
The moving scenes and pilot lights, [...pyre lights]
Smithereens have got 'em scaling heights.
Modern times come talk me down,
And battle lines are drawn across this town.
Parisian boys without your names, [...with obscure names]
Ghetto stones instead of chains,
Talk 'em down cause it's up in flames, [Talk me down...]
And nothing's changed.
Parisian boys without your names, [...with obscure names]
Riot like 1968 again.
The days of rage yeah nothing's changed,
Well pretty flames.
In school I would just bite my tongue,
And now your words they strike me down. [But now your words have struck me dumb.]
The flags are false and they contradict,
They point and click which wounds to lick,
On avenues this christian breeze,
Turns it's heart to more needles please.
Our eyes roll back and we beg for more,
It frays this skin and then underscore.
The case for war you spin and bleed,
The sales you feel screensavers feed,
The girls you breed the soaps that you write,
The graceless charm of your gutter snipes.
The moving scenes and suburbanites,
And smithereens got 'em scaling heights.
Modern times come talk me down,
The battle lines are drawn across this town.
English boys without your names, [...with obscure names]
Ghetto stones instead of chains,
Hearts and minds and US Planes,
Nothing's changed...
And english boys without your names, [...with obscure names]
Riot like the 1980's again,
The days of rage yeah nothing's changed,
More pretty flames.
The New York Hard Bop Quintet's song 99 is a complex and introspective exploration of societal issues and urban decay. The lyrics delve into the themes of drug use, violence, and the struggle for identity, portraying a bleak and often unyielding picture of modern urban life. The imagery is stark and vivid, with evocative phrases such as "blades will fade from blood to sport" and "heroin's cut these fuses short" creating a sense of desperation and hopelessness.
The verses are somewhat fragmented and disjointed, with the imagery jumping from one reference to another. The chorus, however, provides some clarity and focus, with the repeated refrain of "nothing's changed" serving as a powerful reminder of the cyclical nature of societal issues. The song also incorporates references to historical events such as the Parisian riots of 1968 and the English riots of the 1980s, drawing parallels to the contemporary issues facing society.
Line by Line Meaning
In city shoes,
Wearing fashionable shoes of the city,
Of clueless blues,
Feeling lost and uncertain,
Pays the views,
Paying for the cost of the city lifestyle,
And no-mans news.
Hearing news that doesn't affect us,
Blades will fade from blood to sport,
Violence will become entertainment,
The heroin's cut these fuses short,
Drug addiction has taken lives too soon,
Smokers rode a colonial pig,
People smoking while imagining a pink-colored world.
Drink and frame this pain I think.
Drink to cope with pain and find a way to express it.
I'm melting silver poles my dear,
I'm destroying the structures that once held me up.
You bleed your wings and then disappear.
You push yourself to the limit and then fade away.
The moving scenes and pilot lights,
The flickering of the fire is like a funeral pyre.
Smithereens have got 'em scaling heights.
People are chasing after broken pieces, trying to reach new heights.
Modern times come talk me down,
Feeling overwhelmed and needing someone to calm me down in these modern times.
And battle lines are drawn across this town.
People are divided and there are conflicts everywhere.
Parisian boys without your names,
Young men with obscure identities in Paris.
Ghetto stones instead of chains,
Being weighed down by poverty instead of literal chains.
Talk 'em down cause it's up in flames,
Trying to bring people back to reality when everything seems to be burning down.
And nothing's changed.
Despite everything, the situation remains the same.
Riot like 1968 again.
Protesting in the streets like in 1968.
The days of rage yeah nothing's changed,
Despite the anger and frustration, the situation hasn't improved.
Well pretty flames.
Everything might be falling apart, but at least it looks good.
In school I would just bite my tongue,
As a student, I was taught to stay quiet and not speak up.
And now your words they strike me down.
Now, the words of others hurt me deeply.
The flags are false and they contradict,
The symbols of our nation don't represent reality.
They point and click which wounds to lick,
The media decides which wounds to focus on and exploit.
On avenues this christian breeze,
The religious influence is carried through the streets.
Turns it's heart to more needles please.
The city becomes addicted to more drugs and pleasure.
Our eyes roll back and we beg for more,
We become addicted to pleasure and crave more.
It frays this skin and then underscore.
Pleasure wears us down until there's nothing left.
The case for war you spin and bleed,
Being sold on the idea of war and being willing to fight to the death.
The sales you feel screensavers feed,
Buying into products that are sold to us on screens.
The girls you breed the soaps that you write,
The stereotypes and expectations we create for ourselves.
The graceless charm of your gutter snipes.
The unrefined beauty of our city streets.
The moving scenes and suburbanites,
The rotting beauty of the suburbs.
And smithereens got 'em scaling heights.
Breaking everything down and trying to make something new.
Modern times come talk me down,
Being overwhelmed by the chaos of modernity.
The battle lines are drawn across this town.
People are divided and there are tensions everywhere.
English boys without your names,
Young men with obscure identities in England.
Ghetto stones instead of chains,
Being weighed down by poverty instead of literal chains.
Hearts and minds and US planes,
Trying to win the hearts and minds of people through the use of military force.
And english boys without your names,
Once again, thinking of young men with obscure identities in England.
Riot like the 1980's again,
Protesting and standing up for oneself like in the 1980s.
The days of rage yeah nothing's changed,
No matter how angry we get, the situation hasn't really changed.
More pretty flames.
Things might not have improved, but at least they look good.
Contributed by Levi C. Suggest a correction in the comments below.