Fence building nihilists, good evening

This is the late sleeping utopian speaking

Brother of the wind and the wisdom body

Him who has the filthy fits, Black Orpheus

High yellow, the sly rebel indeed

It is the corduroy coon prince of the moon boot fit

Mr. Lime Rickey tickin' off beat, parsel-tongue like feet, no lorry

Green horses run like Porsche Carrera

Of course it's Rory Allen Phillip Ferreira

None other than, the ignoble peon poet from nowhere

Joined by my family in funkonomics, the high vibrational ministers

The Jefferson Park boys

That's Mr. Kenny Segal, void peeker

Renowned in wide reaching concentric eccentric circles

For dropping desks rhythmically and grilling pineapples

Mr. Mike Parvizi of the golden thumb

Plucking poetics from the air as he

Struts down bass lines with nimble awareness

A crossing guard smoking on the job

And Mr. Aaron Carmack, head on a swivel

Profane keeper of the bop, master of sonic delights

Transistor and transmutator, exuding elegance like freedom

Good evening, thank you for joining us

This transmission is addressed to the fence building nihilists

Your soul writes, "come home"

Abandon them outdated strategies, namely hatred

Exile is no place for a person, or your compassion

Come home

Good evening

Good evening