Sangtekst: Abysmal Crucifix. The Chinese Black Man.

The boat docks at the port of Los Angeles
On a smoggy afternoon in the middle of August
An elderly man emerges and takes in the sights,
And suddenly his chest it starts to feel tight.

He knows his number's up,
Life flashing before his eyes,
The horrors of his past erupt,
All the hatred and the lies.

He was born in China to a native man,
Her mother was Black as the Maltese falcon.
At school, the children hated him so
Because he would not share his communal gold.

As a teen he moved to Nigeria
Where the guns they ripped his mom to shreds
The hate and corruption and mass hysteria
Forced his father to run off while the teen slept in bed.

At age 20, he moved to the city of London
Got a job at a factory skinning onions
At night as he'd wander to his roach-filled flat
The hooligans on the streetcorners would pound his ass
(In more ways than one.)

The years passed, the Chinese Black man married
A gorgeous woman with skin the shade of porcelain
But listen up now, 'cause the story's gettin' scary
One night she stabbed his chest with a knife from the kitchen.

He nearly died that night, but by some strange miracle
Or the strength embedded in his rotten soul,
The Chinese Black man survived the gaping wound in his chest
But the one in his heart prevented him from ever having rest.

On her deathbed, his ex-wife phoned him one night
Asked him to please forgive him and come over to talk
The man went reluctantly but couldn't stand the sight
Of such a strong, fierce woman too weak to even walk.

He whispered, "My love, my darling, I've always stayed true."
She said, "Shh, baby, I know, there's just one thing you have to do.
"Go to the City of Angels with an urn filled with my ashes.
"Spread them along the sidewalk on the Strip, light some matches."

"But why?" the Chinese Black man demanded, but she shook her head.
"You'll understand when you get there," she just whispered instead.
He nodded and waited for the day he got the call
That she had finally passed on.

He sailed with her to his native lands, Nigeria and China,
And showed her the torment of a life less fortunate.
Took her to the spot where he first saw a woman's vagina
Lay in that alley with the urn and her spirit and wept.

Then he boarded the ocean liner that took him across the Pacific,
The voyage was long and arduous but otherwise terrific
Until he reached the port of call and stepped out on the dock
And collapsed dead while the urn...it rolled around.

Oh, the Chinese Black man!
Oh, the horror!
Oh, the Chinese Black man!
Oh, the horror!