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lyrics

SPARK
I wiped the final bit of handiwork off on my jeans
I had to think a bit about what the word sanguine means
For here, in rich manhattan's attic,
I'd call this financier phlegmatic
But clearly I was wrong about it
Cause look how he bleeds!

And I come from neighborhoods blown open
And shuttered quite tight
And neighbors all fed up with coping and wading through spite
But on the train home from park avenue
(740 - you've heard of it, haven't you?)
Having indulged my one bad habit
I'll sleep well tonight
If only tonight.

Mister mayor, I do declare
I've never seen you so turned out
All pretty on a spit with a granny smith
In your snout
Everyone will want a bite of you
Barbecued and cyanided
If they all come, who you invited,
We might save the south
We might purge the south

And I come from opulence and splendor
And silver, it's true
I lived without regret off the fat of dixie
For a few
It could've been anyone, I reckon -
Who picks to whom dumb justice beckons?
McCrory wasted his last seconds to ask who are you?
I told him, too:

CHORUS:
I am a spark
I light the dark
I light up the fog on the roof
It punctures the night
As hot as it's bright
As small and as hard as the truth

I was never good enough at arguing
to win a fight
Never good enough at science to
Rub out a blight
But I guess that I'm okay at history-
If I tilt my head it easily
Seems the young white man's main legacy's killing, alright - and saying it's right.

And when I first tried it, my senses were freed
A steely, fluid cold
Erupted and spread to my extremities
A chill in the blood that could only be me
It could only be mine
It could only be me
It could only be
Only be me.

CHORUS

credits

from Beastie, released August 29, 2014

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