Trodding

Babylon is a falling system
Right now I can't let that system get I down
I rather stay a whole heap of miles out of town

Chorus:
Up a Milford Falls to wash the locks on my head
Right on top of a rock is where I rest my head
Then I vision in them cities of corruption, what pollution Trodding in the hills among the birds and the bees
Trodding in the hills among the leaves and the trees
Trodding in the hills and get some nice cool breeze
Get the inspiration to sing

This ya song off the hook
Me nuh inna them dirty pot wha me see them all a cook Colonialism and want wi live by them book
Build up them penitentiary but them someone a the crook Hypocrite, parasite vampires "me look"
Me see all the wealth and legacy what them took
Rastafari sound the trumpet black people look
Take the chain out of you brain, watch where you put your foot
Rasta chant make the heathen shook so

Chorus

Babylon done, me know she them and them bloody city have to go dung
Just like in a the days of Gomorrah and Sodom
So all who sight the fullness get up and run
Money, drugs, sex and violence a that a run the town
Sisters a sell them bodies and the brothers going down Rastafari is the one who come to lick out the sound
Black man regain you royal crown
You betta regain you royal crown

Produced by Computer Paul for Boot Camp Records Recorded at Computer Paul Studios, Kingston, Jamaica Lyrics by Fitz Cotterell