[Verse 1: preacher-cadence male MC, rolling sermon flow on the breakbeat] I walked out the county gate with a paper and a coat And a bag of what I came with and a bus fare and a note Forty places took my application, forty threw it out 'Cause I checked the little box, and that's all the box is about Then a foreman at the union hall, a man named Mickey Shea Looked me up and down and said, "Can you work in the dark all day?" Took the cage down to the bottom, felt the pressure in my ears Felt the river overhead like it's been waitin' there for years Down here nobody asks you, down here the rock don't read Down here the only record is the footage that you feed [Hook: preacher-cadence male MC, the acid bassline squelching under the sermon] Can I get a hole through, six hundred feet below Can I get a hole through, where the river's runnin' slow Every inch I'm diggin', I'm diggin' out of me Can I get a hole through, 'cause the paper says I'm free [Verse 2: harder, the fuzz guitar grinding] Six years on the cutter head, a steel face grindin' stone Me and Delroy, Hector, Shea, and nobody's on his phone Up top there's eight million people turnin' faucets every dawn And they never think about the hands that put the water on Parole man came to see me, said, "Your paper's all complete You're a free man, Mr. Wallace," and I looked down at my feet I been free six years on paper, but the paper never knew I'm still standin' at a wall, I'm just diggin' my way through [Hook: the acid bassline squelching] Can I get a hole through, six hundred feet below Can I get a hole through, where the river's runnin' slow Every inch I'm diggin', I'm diggin' out of me Can I get a hole through, 'cause the paper says I'm free [Bridge: stripped to kick and fuzz] They said knock and it'll open, so we knockin' with a drill They said seek and you will find it, so we seekin' through the hill And the far crew's on the other side, I hear 'em through the stone Tap, tap, tap, the far crew talkin', brother, we are not alone [Verse 3: the muffled mix opens up wide when the rock gives way] Tuesday mornin', six fifteen, the face is thin as bread And the cutter starts to shudder, and the foreman shakes his head Says, "Wallace, it's your push," and I lean into the wheel And the granite starts to crumble, and I feel it, Lord, I feel Then it opens, and it's light, the far shaft open to the sky And the dawn comes down six hundred feet and lands right in my eye Delroy's cryin' in his mask, and Shea is laughin' like a kid And I'm standin' in the first real mornin' that I ever lived I hold my hand up in it like you'd hold it in a stream And the paper finally means it, and the man is finally clean [Hook: everything in] Can I get a hole through, six hundred feet below Can I get a hole through, where the river's runnin' slow Every inch I'm diggin', I'm diggin' out of me Can I get a hole through, 'cause the paper says I'm free [End]
0/500