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Broken tick-tock
Ghetto gazette news
Nobody’s fixing the clock
Alarm is stuck on snooze
A lot of people hearts dozed off in a bottle,
		hoping a taste of liquid happiness
would make their troubles all go away
Temporarily it felt like it did 
But hard booze and brew-skis 
only sent their life on the skids, 
	   a fatal downward slope
Using alcohol and dope equaled no hope
Last day of the week, life ain’t nothing but a party
First day of the week, bleary eyes now seeking relief
Row after row filled in the church pews
Trodden down souls 
wanting to hear the good gospel news
Preacher tells them,
God’s gonna save everybody, including you
But he ain’t sermonizing the straight hard truth,
that things are gonna get worse before they get better
A lot of pain in store ... a lot of tribulation,
before you get that sweet sober taste of salvation
But for poor ghetto souls, this ain’t no breaking news:
We’ve always been given eight days worth of seven day blues
Now if preacher man is telling them that,
he’s speaking the gospel truth
Ghetto souls have always been given 
			eight days worth of seven day blues
Such a heavy burden has always been put on us, 										       this ain’t nothing new	
An extra helping of sabbath pain,
God’s trying to warn you to get close to Him again
Eight days worth of seven day blues,
	such an oppressive burden heavily taxing you
Eight days worth of seven day blues,
		that’s all that the Devil has in store for you
So get on your knees and start to pray,
then rise ... open your eyes and recognize:
The first day of the rest of your life is starting off okay
Eight days of heaviness ain’t got no more weight
No more seven day blues,
only the joyous sound of righteous news

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