Fried Rice - Mud Sun, Aaron Nazrul

You know

We’re comin' to get ya

We’re comin' to get fried rice

You know

It’ll never be the same

Never be the same

Oh no no

You know

We’re comin' to get ya

We’re comin' to get fried rice

You know

It’ll never be the same

Never be the same

Oh no

All the rain dogs have come to shake off the street sound

Rave off the rain fog let the fools steam out

Some of them beach bound some run for West St

Heads full of spare change wallets with confetti

Pockets with the reddy’s that keep the city pretty

The spare cash that beats the sea back and keeps the police busy

'Cause if it weren’t for drunk disorder

Brighton would be surely drowning in salt water and budget board ordered

As it is

We’re the mecca for letting hair down

Come ride the carousel and join the fair ground

A powder shot of soma in this candy floss city

Where they say the drinkers come to practice animosity

And a teenager dressed as a man can watch titties and talk totty

Where a crotch costs a grand, it’s not for free

It’s in the hand of gangsters who are expanding their monopoly

From the strip club to the hippie cafe across the street

It’s all part of the fun, the fun has become a commodity

Like the square full of sun and beach front properties

«Honestly, Neil, it’s so bohemian»

But that type of freedom comes at a costly premium

And Simon says that it’s a hard logic

He gets less for forty hour weeks and selling narcotics

From his front room to kids from London

'Cause Brighton’s where you go not where you come from

No

Your paper wings are faded man

You’re flying too close to the sun

Hey when spring comes early

I’ll be there

The way the night weighs upon my shoulders

Oh no no

'Cause we’re coming to get ya

We’re comin' to get fried rice

You know

It’ll never be the same

Never be the same

Oh No

I said we’re comin' to get ya

We’re comin' to get fried rice

You know

It’ll never be the same

Never be the same

I was soaring over a cultural desert of false pleasures

On a pair of stolen wings made from beeswax and vulture feathers

I could barely hold them together

When I came to a baron ocean and entered this oasis of Arizona weather

Alternating with rains wetter than Amazonian rivers

And I found shelter there with the local rebels

Who entertained themselves by experimenting with their serotonin levels

On pebble beaches

Before descending into the nether regions of the hills

Dressed in leather breaches, necking pills like Skittles

In the steamiest dens of sexual deviants

Ready to pledge allegiance to nothing less than pleasure seeking

Yes, a festive ethos infected them every weekend

And this bohemian mecca needed a network

Of creative musicians, MCs and Djs for entertainment

The kind of place where the nightlife is just as vital as the fire brigade

Where a guy can ply his trade live on stage

In front of a bunch of primates with deep fried brains

And Hey!

I can relate to the desire to change your mindstate every night

Wake up with a migraine and the next day try it again

So I stayed in Brighton for quiet some time

Mostly because I like the way the locals play this rhyme game

But I was never quite native to this tribal oasis

Just an honorary adopted member

So I left them to the onslaught of winter

Confident that liberty is something they will not surrender

You Know

We’re comin' to get ya

We’re comin' to get fried rice

You know

It’ll never be the same

Never be the same

Oh no no

We’re comin' to get ya

We’re comin' to get fried rice

You know

It’ll never be the same

Never be the same

Oh no

I am here

So I hear

But I feel I’m not near

Then I’m gone

So so long

You know time just stumbles on

And once I leave

I can breath

Tuck some cards under my sleeve

And then Baby when I get back

I’ll let you know