Hell & Hunger
Lyrics: Henry Biggs
Music: Henry Biggs and Mylene Farmer

Stop, sink slow down sell your soul son
something strong in silence but still you don't stand a chance
so stupid, bust, break down slump those shoulders, crumple

Keep to myself and I'm a lay low
cold as a steel blade on a scalpel
silent violence, I don't talk
my quiet cuts the night like a tomahawk
Holdin it in, sittin' with it, gettin' it to burn hard
not gonna be lettin it go, control, I'm frontin ice cold

Come on booooy you aint nothing, and you ain't never gonna be nothin relax

Emotion grows higher inside of me
but I hold on hard, and don't let it free
I'm keepin this, I'm asleep with this anger is my energy
makes a blistering fire that inspires me
stomach growls and howls like a comanchee
caged rage is what I'm about
this hatred I'm a hold, lord knows when I'll let it out

REFRAIN
hell and hunger makes me stronger
heartbeat pounds like thunder
hell and hunger
sometimes I wonder
if I can hold back much longer

cuz I'm like a time bomb, bustin to blow
ready to rumble, pumpin to explode
restraining, containing, downing my rage
taut like a tightwire close to the edge
cool to the touch but quicker to the trigger
drown myself down with rounds of malt liquor
but sometime in my mind noise gets so loud
 jacks my cool I can't keep it down
thinkin bout the stinkin lotta nothin I was given
this messed up dead stop crater that I live in
and my head boils, teeth fists clenched
no escape from the rape and back-street stench
my skin's peeled, muscles drawn tightly
the sting of anything might ignite me

REFRAIN

filled with hunger, eating my poverty
burning from the cold world that surrounds me
swallowing hatred, embracing my rage
hating any love from above or any place
housed by the clouds that thicken my hide
time stops still, laughs and rolls by

Give it up, come on, give it up, yeahh

fatigue pushes me weakness drives me on
clothed by the stripped moan of a ghetto song
calm rage flows through my veins
cold fever forever rides on my brain
the pulse of my nine lives thrives on all this
ready at any time to pop a death kiss
word from my world a day down my way
yo I say

REFRAIN

you just aint never gonna learn, man, you ain't here to do nothing slide yourself back home on your belly, boy snake, you never did have a chance unless you wanna dance with the devil

REFRAIN
The Idea . . .


Pregnant people get strange tastes. I was pregnant with poverty.

Pregnant with dirt and pregnant with smells that made people turn away,
pregnant with cold and pregnant with shoes that were never bought for me,
pregnant with five other people in my bed and no Daddy in the next room,
and pregnant with hunger. Paste doesn't taste too bad when you're hungry.
Dick Gregory; An Autobiography, p. 42

Explanation:
Imagine being "pregnant with hunger" -- is this easy to see? It's this type of paradoxical line that Headmess plays with in "Hell & Hunger." Notice
especially the last verse:

fatigue pushes me, weakness drives me on
clothed by the stripped moan of a ghetto song
calm rage flows through my veins
cold fever forever rides on my brain
the pulse of my nine lives thrives on all this
ready at any time to pop a death kiss
word from my world a day down my way
yo I say

These are all paradoxical lines, adding to the sense of difficulty of a life of poverty and hunger in which you are forced to eat your poverty.

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