Cory is the one--she'll never ever die young  She'll be quite candid  And say we were drunks who couldn't make her come  Running with Revolt and Plutonium  In the canyons of Uranium  Rolling off a roulette on a Rampart Street  Here come the King of the Bayou    When should a beat get the blues?  If it's a subway pokergame you lose  If the Zulu King is on Main  Let's beat the parades and the crowds from the game  Rushing through the rush hour on an all-nighter  Never seen you look so young  The world really looks from this doughnut store  Such a funny colour in the sun    And in his style he's number one  Said the monkey of the three wise bums  Toting Mezzrow and up to the innocent  But he's seen what jammings been done  And they're selling tickets to the stadium  And the doors to the ceilings of our craniums  I was glad we were changing on the gradient  They were sweeping up with searchlights made of Radium    Everglade funk in a clubtown  For once the traffic's been conquered by the streets  Listening close the waterpools  You can hear the hiss and the leaks  And the rattling cans of the shuffling bands  Down the avenues of spare change  Forty blocks north in your memories  In the Indonesian fog and the rain    Cory is the one--she'll never ever die young  When should a beat get the blues?  If it's a subway pokergame you lose  Rolling off a route on a Rampart Street  Here comes the King of the Bayou.