Dear Mr Cooper

Seen a face I don't recognize

Making discord, turning my days sadder

Don't confuse the word ostracize

It'll make it fit more or disorganize matter

It's all in your game, yeah. It's all in your game.

Dear Mr Cooper,

I believe that you're a man of musical taste

You will therefore be aware of the pain

And heartache, that contradictions makes

They say music is a river, yet it flows on

Regardless of the profits that make you quiver

So as we deliver the river your reply we anticipate

Yours, Theo

His response was pure mental Jazz

A sobering vastness where shiny ebony forms

Dance in dark glasses

Such a tragic display of our racial identity

Would make John Coltrane, Kwame Nkrumah

Wail in their graves!

As we stand here waiting to be saved