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His eyes are closed his face pale asleep
On the ground a newspaper reads
The blood has spilled again
And you just dream my yellowman

Yellowman
debutantes smiled
Everyone fought for dimes
Newspapers screamed for blood
It was the best of times

Every place around the world, it seemed the same
Life is too short but now it's kind of funky
I make the beats for me and my homies
Newspaper reporters and others always ask me
Why I'm X-rated
Her world collapsed early Sunday morning
She got up from the kitchen table
Folded the newspaper and silenced the radio
Those creatures jumped
despise and I deplore and detest
The tabloids and newspapers better known as the press
And so much propaganda that it leads to distress
Magic Johnson,
the revolution's near,

But to me it seems quite clear
That's it's all just a little bit of history repeating.
The newspapers shout a new style is growing,
But it
the Super-Constellation all the way from Rimini
And feasted them on fish and chips from a newspaper facsimile
Now dead Italian tourist bodies litter up the Broadway
Some
the newspaper shouts ring to the boots of roustabouts
But you`re never in any doubt, there`s something happening somewhere

You chase down the road `til your
Verse 1:
Life is too short but now it's kind of funky
I make the beats for me and my homies
Newspaper reporters and others always ask me
Why I'm
the revolution's near
But to me it seems quite clear
That it's all just a little bit of history repeating

The newspaper shouts a new style is growing
But it
When I'm feeling tired
She pushed food through the door
And I crawl towards the crack of light
Sometimes I can't find my way
Newspapers spread around
more than they did
And the newspapers didn't cover the story
Just decided to keep it hid.

Somebody started saying it was an inside job
Whatever
at all we had newspapers on the wall
It was air-conditioned in the wintertime
Oh it was just an humble hut but its door was never shut
And a man could get
laid his head on a newspaper
With a picture of Carmichael on the front page,
Posing with the little league baseball team,
And a seedy shot of Jed
Can somebody shut him up? 
I don't know for the life of me 
Where he comes up with that stuff." 

They laid his head on a newspaper 
With a picture
yawning

Good manners
And bad breath get you nowhere
Even Presidents have newspaper lovers
Ministers go crawling under covers

She's no angel
He's
mine, that's all they've got
Newspaper clippings fill the coffee shops
The old men will always think they know it all
Young girls will dream about
Listen man, get a crate, some crack, and some house slippers
A newspaper, look out boy, and get ya chips up
Or get a gun, a mask an escape route
Some
When I'm feeling tired
She pushed food through the door
And I crawl towards the crack of light
Sometimes I can't find my way
Newspapers spread
See him cuddled in the shadows
Sleepin' on his cardboard bed
Using rags for a pillow
Where he lays his unwashed head
His blanket's old newspaper
entwined, the chosen few
The newspapers says, says

Say it's true, it's true
We can break through
Though torn in two, we can be one

I, I will begin
leg and to buy my eye.
The newspapers call me 

The state of the art, 
And the children, 
When they see me, cry.
I thought it would be nice
at a food festival in Northern California
Three people, so far, dead
Breaking news (fifteen wounded)
A deadly shooting at a newspaper office in Annapolis
And possibly the least appreciated people in all the earth
As long as sixty years ago 

When I first started to read newspapers 
I read of floods

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