The Last Poets
Gashman
[Abiodun Oyewole]
It feels so good
And you tickle
And she swallow feeling good
So good
And those black thighs clapped up against one another
Like you weren't getting enough
It feels so good
Now there was pain
But it was good pain
Pain that hungered for more and more and more
And maybe tears or...
And you're saying, "Take it easy, baby
Take it easy, baby"
Good feelings
Flesh against flesh, and that hot moistness
That warm mucus surrounding your manhood
So good
Yeah, it feels so damn good
Mmmmm
Pain was there
But she said...
What'd she say, brother?
(She said, "Come on, daddy")
And you came
Every day you came
You got beyond horny
You are now a gashman
Bleeding, and leaving a long stream of blood from corner to corner
Stoop to stoop, bed to bed, and gash to gash
So good
It feels so good
As sweat tickled down your back
With your revolution being dug out of your wax-filled ears
And your bleeding mind speaking strongly of death
And allowing blood to clot and crust
On the gash
Sing a song of evening times
Your days are numbered, Mr. Gashman
All over bitches with big 'fros and nice bodies
Turning would-be revolutionaries into gashmen
Gashmen
Same song yesterday, same song yesterday
GASH NEEDS MAN
NO EXPERIENCE NECESSARY
When you bleed to death, Mister Gashman
And find yourself in a web of cold flames
And rotten watermelon rinds and cigarette ashes and ashes
And bye-byes and bye-byes and byes
Don't forget your alligator shoes