"Cell 17 Trouble The Water--
Summer of '88."
"Across the pockmarked street through the breezeway,
around the way of no-way-at-all-- the bridge,
real and imagined, be troubled water overground.
Don't trouble the concept, but we did.
On the one looking for the two, or two-for-one
in this geographical location unerases the erased.
The get back up beat do it again--
freedom ain't nothing, not even a word.
So don't give me that regurgitated sound
reprogrammed.
An unconditional condition is what
we asked for, someone yell.
Our ass is what we follow.
And then all light begins is dark matter.
Bam.
Forever is what you want it to be.
Word up."