| King Tubby died today, |
| Struck down by a careless cliche. |
| The Hitman had to say it was an error, |
| He was aiming for the airplay. |
| Is there hope, in being ahead of our time? |
| Brother can you spare me a bassline? |
| How come you’ve got pre-pubescents fainting, |
| When Van Gogh died before he sold a painting.* |
| Now time keeps on slipping, |
| And we’re to blame. |
| While the pioneers are starving in J.A. |
| So we spied like a fly on the wall, |
| Deep within the halls of the record companies. |
| And they know it is poor, |
| But what the hell, it’s going to get «A"listed. |
| Now we’ve hit on 24 tracks, |
| Before the ink is dry upon the contracts. |
| We’ve a dream of Marx & Lenin, |
| Drowning in a sea of snow-washed denim. |
| Why should the masters innovate, |
| When every time we come along & rob them? |
| And well may you shrug & renovate, |
| If you’re not part of the solution, |
| You’re part of the problem. |