you will not be able to stay home, brother
you will not be able to plug in, turn on, and cop out
you will not be able to lose yourself on scag
and skip out for beer during commercials because
the revolution will not be televised
the revolution will not be televised
the revolution will not be brought to you by xerox
and ________without commercial interruptions
the revolution will not show you pictures of nixon blowing a bugle
and leading a charge by john mitchell, zero abrams, and spirew agnew
to eat hog maws confiscated from the harlem sanctuary
the revolution will not be televised
the revolution will not be brought to you by the secret award theater
and will not star natalie woods as steve mcqueen
or bullwinkle as julia
the revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal
the revolution will not get rid of the nubs
the revolution will not make you look five pounds thinner
because the revolution will not be televised, brother
there will be no pictures of you and willie mays pushing that shopping cart
down the block on the dead run
or trying to slide that color tv into a stolen ambulance
nbc will not be able to predict the winner at 8:32 on report from 29 districts
the revolution will not be televised
there will be no pictures of pigs shooting down brothers on the instant replay
there will be no pictures of pigs shooting down brothers on the instant replay
there will be no pictures of whitney young being run out of harlem on a rail
with a brand new process
there will be no slow-motions or still lifes of roy wilkins, strolling thru watts
in a red black and green liberation jumpsuit
that he has been saving for just the proper occasion
green acres, beverly hillbillies, and hooterville junction
will no longer be so damn relevant
and women will not care if dick finally got down with jane on search for tomorrow
because black people will be in the street looking for a brighter day
the revolution will not be televised
there will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock news
and no pictures of hairy-armed women liberationists
and jackie o'nassis blowing her nose
the theme song will not be written by jim webb or francis scott keys
nor sung by glen campbell, tom jones, johnny cash, inglebert humperdink or the rare earth
the revolution will not be televised
the revolution will not be back after a message about a white tornado
white lightning, or white people
you will not have to worry about a jungle in your bedroom, the tiger in your tank,
or the giant in your toilet bowl
the revolution will not go better with coke
the revolution will not fight germs and may cause bad breath
the revolution WILL put you in the driver's seat
the revolution will not be televised
will not be televised
will not be televised...
the revolution will be no reruns, brothers,
the revolution will be live
Junkie walking through the twilight, I'm on my way home
I left three days ago, no one seems to know I'm gone
Home is where the hatred is, and home is filled with pain
But it might not be such a bad idea if I never, never went home again
Home is where I live inside my white powder dream
Home was once an empty vacuum but it's filled now with my silent scream
Home is where the needle marks try to heal my broken heart
But it might not be such a bad idea if I never, never went home again
Stand as far away from me as you can and ask me why
Hang on to your rosary beads, close your eyes and watch me die
You keep saying, kick it, quit it, kick it, quit it
God, but did you ever try
And turn your sick soul inside out
So that the world, so that the world
Can watch you die [x3], say...
Home is where I live inside my white powder dream
Home was once an empty vacuum but it's filled now with my silent scream
Home is where the needle marks try to heal my broken heart
But it might not be such a bad idea if I never, never went home again
Don't you know I might never go home, never go home
Make all these plans and keep packing my bags
Not go, hey, not go
Keep saying... Tomorrow
First thing tomorrow
Tomorrow I'll go
Know it all the time, I'm just biding time
Say, kick it, quit it
I might never go home, never go home
Pack all my bags and keep standing around
And down
And say I'm running and running
But I can't get away
Everybody ain't that strong, ain't that strong
Go too long, feel yourself crash
kick it, quit it
can't go home
holding onto something
kick it, quit it
can't go home
yes, you'd like to go home
mamma could change it, daddy could fix it, yes, if you could go home
mama don't need to see me this way, know me this way and touch me this way
love me this way, can't go .. home
say it to myself...
kick it, quit it
can't go home
I feel it in my soul
kick it, quit it
can't go home
yes, yes, saying, saying
kick it, quit it
can't go home
yes, but I know, but I know, but I...
can't go home
yes, I'd like to go home, can't go home
I could start all over
Like to go home
Kick it, quit it [x4] home
Told him, kick it, quit it [x3], can't go home
I know when they told me, kick it, quit it [x3], can't go home
Feeling so much worse now, kick it, quit it [x3], gotta go home
Yeah, my friends say "stop"
Told myself a 100 times I'm going stop
Yeah, my friends say "quit it"
They don't know how many times I've said I gotta quit it
Then I say "tomorrow" [x14] hey, I'm going to stop
Yes, in the morning I'm gonna go home
Need a little bit of love in the morning, love in the morning
Somebody help me get over this thing
Got to go home
Feel like I could start all over at home
Make myself a brand new life at home
First I gotta face them down, say "kick it, quit it" [x4] home
Yeah, I'm gonna say "kick it, quit it" [x2] get back home
Yeah, I hear 'em say "kick it, quit it" [x2] can't get home
Standing in the ruins
Of another Black man's life,
or flying through the valley
separating day and night.
"I am death," cried the Vulture,
"For the people of the light."
Charon brought his raft
from the sea that sails on souls,
And saw the scavenger departing,
taking warm hearts to the cold.
He knew the ghetto was the haven
for the meanest creature ever known.
In a wilderness of heartbreak
and a desert of despair,
Evil's carrion of justice
shrieks a cry of naked terror.
He's taking babies from their momas
and leaving grief beyond compare.
So if you see the Vulture coming,
flying circles in your mind,
Remember there is no escaping
for he will follow close behind.
Only promised me a battle,
Now sweet lil ol' brown eyed girl, hey, now
Now that you're sleepin'
I've got a confession to make
Of secrets that I've been keepin'
Me and your mama had some problems,
A whole lotta things on our minds
But lately, girl, we've been thinkin' that we were wastin' time
Nearly all the time, and
Your daddy loves you
Your daddy loves his girl
Your daddy loves you
Your daddy loves his girl, hey now
Now sweet lil ol' chocolate girl
Now that you're sleepin' I feel braver
I've got a confession to make
I'll sneak it in while you're dreamin'
Me and your mama had some troubles
There's been a whole lotta things on our minds
But lately when we look at you, we know that we've been wastin' time
Damn near all the time, and
Your daddy loves you
Your daddy loves his girl, hey, now
Said your daddy loves you
Said your daddy loves his girl, hey, now
Your daddy loves you, and your mama, too
Your daddy loves his girl
Loves his girl
Back when Eisenhower was the President,
Golf courses was where most of his time was spent.
So I never really listened to what the President said,
Because in general I believed that the General was politically dead.
But he always seemed to know when the muscles were about to be flexed,
Because I remember him saying something, mumbling something about a Military Industrial Complex.
Americans no longer fight to keep their shores safe,
Just to keep the jobs going in the arms making workplace.
Then they pretend to be gripped by some sort of political reflex,
But all they're doing is paying dues to the Military Industrial Complex.
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary.
The Military and the Monetary,
get together whenever they think its necessary,
They turn our brothers and sisters into mercenaries, they are turning the planet into a cemetery.
The Military and the Monetary, use the media as intermediaries,
they are determined to keep the citizens secondary, they make so many decisions that are arbitrary.
We're marching behind a commander in chief,
who is standing under a spotlight shaking like a leaf.
but the ship of state had landed on an economic reef,
so we knew he was going to bring us messages of grief.
The Military and the Monetary,
were shielded by January and went storming into February,
Brought us pot bellied generals as luminaries,
two weeks ago I hadn't heard of the son of a bitch,
now all of a sudden he's legendary.
They took the honour from the honourary,
they took the dignity from the dignitaries,
they took the secrets from the secretary,
but they left the bitch in obituary.
The Military and the Monetary,
from thousands of miles away in a Saudi Arabian sanctuary,
had us all scrambling for our dictionaries,
cause we couldn't understand the fuckin vocabulary.
Yeah, there was some smart bombs,
but there was some dumb ones as well,
scared the hell out of CNN in that Baghdad hotel.
The Military and the Monetary,
they get together whenever they think its necessary,
War in the desert sometimes sure is scary,
but they beamed out the war to all their subsidiaries.
Tried to make So Damn Insane a worthy adversary,
keeping the citizens secondary,
scaring old folks into coronaries.
The Military and the Monetary,
from thousands of miles in a Saudi Arabian sanctuary,
kept us all wondering if all of this was really truely, necessary.
We've got to work for Peace,
Peace ain't coming this way.
If we only work for Peace,
If everyone believed in Peace the way they say they do,
we'd have Peace.
The only thing wrong with Peace,
is that you can't make no money from it.
The Military and the Monetary,
they get together whenever they think its necessary,
they've turned our brothers and sisters into mercenaries,
they are turning the planet, into a cemetery.
Got to work for Peace,
Peace ain't coming this way.
We should not allow ourselves to be mislead,
by talk of entering a time of Peace,
Peace is not the absence of war,
it is the absence of the rules of war and the threats of war and the preparation for war.
Peace is not the absence of war,
it is the time when we will all bring ourselves closer to each other,
closer to building a structure that is unique within ourselves
because we have finally come to Peace within ourselves.
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary.
Get together whenever they think its necessary,
they've turned our brothers and sisters into mercenaries,
they are turning parts of the planet, into a cemetery.
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary,
We hounded the Ayatollah religiously,
Bombed Libya and killed Quadafi's son hideously.
We turned our back on our allies the Panamanians,
and saw Ollie North selling guns to the Iranians.
Watched Gorbachev slaughtering Lithuanians,
We better warn the Amish,
they may bomb the Pennsylvanians.
The Military and the Monetary,
get together whenever they think its necessary,
they have turned our brothers and sisters into mercenaries,
they are turning the planet, into a cemetery.
I don't want to sound like no late night commercial,
but its a matter of fact that there are thousands of children all over the world
in Asia and Africa and in South America who need our help.
When they start talking about 55 cents a day and 70 cents a day,
I know a lot of folks feel as though that,
thats not really any kind of contribution to make,
but we had to give up a dollar and a half just to get in the subway nowadays.
So this is a song about tommorrow and about how tommorrow can be better. if we all,
"Each one reach one, Each one try to teach one".
Nobody can do everything,
but everybody can do something,
everyone must play a part,
everyone got to go to work, Work for Peace.
Spirit Say Work, Work for Peace
If you believe the things you say, go to work.
If you believe in Peace, time to go to work.
Many suggestions
And documents written.
Many directions
For the end that was given.
They gave us
Pieces of silver and pieces of gold.
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?
Many fine speeches (oh yeah)
From the White House desk (uh huh)
Written on the cue cards
That were never really there. Yes,
But the heat and the summer were there
And the freezing winter's cold. Now
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?
Call my brother a junkie 'cause he ain't got no job (no job, no job).
Told my old man to leave me when times got hard (so hard).
Told my mother she got to carry me all by herself.
And now that I want to be a man (be a man) who can depend on no one else (oh yeah).
What about the red man
Who met you at the coast?
You never dig sharing;
Always had to have the most.
And what about Mississippi,
The boundary of old?
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?
Call my brother a junkie 'cause he ain't got no job
Told my old man to leave me when times got hard (so hard).
Told my mother she got to carry me all by herself.
Wanna be a man that can depend on no one else (oh yeah).
What about the red man,
Who met you at the coast?
You never dig sharing;
Always had to have the most.
And what about Mississippi,
The boundaries of old?
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?
Many fine speeches (oh yeah)
From the White House desk (uh huh)
Written on the cue cards
That were never really there. Yes,
But the heat and the summer were there
And the freezing winter's cold.
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?
Who'll pay reparations,
‘Cause I don't dig segregation, but I
can't get integration
I got to take it to the United Nations,
Someone to help me away from this nation.
Tell me,
[Gil-Scott Heron:]
Us living as we do upside down.
And the new word to have is revolution.
People don't even want to hear the preacher spill or spiel because God's whole card has been thoroughly piqued.
And America is now blood and tears instead of milk and honey.
The youngsters who were programmed to continue fucking up woke up one night digging Paul Revere and Nat Turner as the good guys.
America stripped for bed and we had not all yet closed our eyes.
The signs of truth were tattooed across our open ended vagina.
We learned to our amazement untold tale of scandal.
Two long centuries buried in the musty vault, hosed down daily with a gagging perfume.
America was a bastard the illegitimate daughter of the mother country whose legs were then spread around the world and a rapist known as freedom - free doom.
Democracy, liberty, and justice were revolutionary code names that preceded the bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling, bubbling in the mother country's crotch.
What does Websters say about soul?
All I want is a good home and a wife
And a children, and some food to feed them every night.
After all is said and done build a new route to China if they'll have you.
Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?
Who will survive in America?
A rat done bit my sister Nell
With Whitey on the moon
Her face and arms began to swell
And Whitey's on the moon
I can't pay no doctor bills
But Whitey's on the moon
Ten years from now I'll be paying still
While Whitey's on the moon
You know, the man just upped my rent last night
Cause Whitey's on the moon
No hot water, no toilets, no lights
But Whitey's on the moon
I wonder why he's uppin' me?
Cause Whitey's on the moon?
Well i was already given him fifty a week
And now Whitey's on the moon
Taxes takin' my whole damn check
The junkies make me a nervous wreck
The price of food is goin up
And if all that crap wasn't enough
A rat done bit my sister nell
With Whitey on the moon
Her face and arms began to swell
And Whitey's on the moon
With all that money i made last year
For Whitey on the moon
How come I ain't got no money here?
Hmm, Whitey's on the moon
You know I just about had my fill
Of Whitey on the moon
I think I'll send these doctor bills
airmail special
Long ago the clock washed midnight away
Bringing the dawn
Oh God, I must be dreaming
Time to get up again
And time to start up again
Pulling on my socks again
Should have been asleep
When I was sitting there drinking beer
And trying to start another letter to you
Don't know how many times I dreamed to write again last night
Should've been asleep when I turned the stack of records over and over
So I wouldn't be up by myself
Where did the night go?
Should go to sleep now
And say fuck a job and money
Because I spend it all on unlined paper and can't get past
"Dear baby, how are you?"
Brush my teeth and shave
Look outside, sky is dark
Think it may rain
Where did
Where did
You always go out of your way to impress me
Don't you know by now, ain't no need to impress me
I'm impressed every time you smile
When I feel like you mean to smile
You can be so very beautiful
When you are who you are
Every morning when you wake up you put on a new disguise
How long did you think it would take me to realize?
Girl, the things you wore ain't real
You never tell me just how you feel
Girl you can be so very beautiful
When you are who you are
People never seem to want to be themselves
So they end up running in circles confused
Yeah, confused
Just like everyone else
Every morning when you wake up you put on a new disguise
Just how long did you think it would take me to realize
That the things you wore ain't real
You never tell me just how you feel
When you could be so very beautiful
When you are who you are
Yeah, when you are who you are, yeah
Oh, when you are who you are, yeah
When you are who you are, yeah
When you are who you are
Get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get it, get it
When you are who you are, yeah
Oh when you are who you are, yeah
Oh when you are who you are, yeah
We'd like to do an idea for you that was related to the H2OGaTe, Watergate blues
In March of 1973, we wrote the Watergate blues, and some 17 months later, then-President Nixon resigned
But the story didn't end there, so we didn't stop there
We have prepared a sequel, and it's called, and it's called "We Beg Your Pardon America"
We beg your pardon because the pardon you gave this time, was not yours to give
They call it due process and some people are overdue
We beg your pardon America
Somebody said "brother-man gonna break a window, gonna steal a hubcap, gonna smoke a joint, brother man gonna go to jail"
The man who tried to steal America is not in jail
"Get caught with a nickel bag brother-man, get caught with a nickel bag", says the lady on your way to get your hair fixed
"You'll do Big Ben, and Big Ben is time"
But the man who tried to fix America will not do time
Said they're going to slap his wrists, gonna retire him with 850 thousand dollars
And America was "shocked"
America leads the world in shocks
Unfortunately, America does not lead the world in deciphering the cause of shock
850 thousand dollars they said and the people protested and so they saw it like "we'll give him 200 thousand dollars"
Everybody said "OK, that's better"
I'd like to retire with 200 thousand dollars some day
San Quentin not San Clemente
Do not pass go, go directly to jail, do not collect 200 thousand dollars
We beg your pardon America
We beg your pardon because somehow the pardon did not sit correctly
What were - what were the causes for this pardon?
Well now they had "flea bite us"
Rats bite us, no pardon in the ghetto
They had national security, but do you feel secure with the man who tried to steal America back on the streets again?
What are the results of this pardon though? Because remember, when there's causes, there's results and the results is always deeper still
We now have Oatmeal Man
Anytime you find someone in the middle,
Anytime you find someone who is tepid,
Anytime you find someone who is lukewarm,
Anytime you find someone who has been in Congress for 25 years and no one ever heard of him,
You've got Oatmeal Man
Oatmeal Man, straddling uncomfortably, yards and feet of barbed wire
It's hard to live in the middle all the time
Oatmeal Man, the man who said you could fit all of his black friends in the trunk of his car and still have room for the Republican elephant
Oatmeal Man
But there was no crime committed
Oatmeal Man says that "America, in 1975 your president will be a 1913 Ford"
Regressive
Circle up the wagons to defend yourself from nuclear attack
Oatmeal Man, reminiscent of 1964's AuH2O, Gold Water
Thank god he didn't win, but Oatmeal man didn't win
Did you vote for him? I didn't vote for him
But that's the first results, and the second would be the Dred Rockefeller
Doubtlessly being promoted for the job he did at Attica, 43 dead and millions of Americans once again in shock
Doubtlessly being promoted for the job he did on the streets of New York city where the pushers sell the drugs that the government allows in the country, and then they do time
They do life, and death or life, and death behind bars, while William Saxbe says he is going to dismiss the Lorton Furlough program
And brother Richard X of Buffalo New York faces 13 hundred and 65 years - did he say one thousand three hundred and sixty five years? - behind bars for participating in Attica
And Rockefeller faces being the Vice President of this country
And all is calm and quiet along the white sands at San Clemente
We beg your pardon America, we beg your pardon once again
Because we found out that seven out of every ten black men behind jail, and most of the men behind jail are black
Seven out of every ten black men never went to the ninth grade
Didn't have 50 dollars and hadn't had 100 for a month when they went to jail
So the poor and the ignorant go to jail while the rich go to San Clemente
We beg your pardon America because we understand now much more deeply than we understood before
But we don't want to take the pardon back, we want to issue some more
Pardon brother Frank Willis, the Watergate security guard, he was only doing his job
Pardon H. Rap Brown, it was only burglary
Pardon Robert Vesco, it was only embezzlement
Pardon Charles Manson, it was only mass murder
And pardon us while we get sick
Because they pardoned William Calley, 22 dead, and America in shock
And we understand all the more deeply, and we beg your pardon
As unemployment spirals toward 7 percent, and it seems like 70 percent in my neighborhood
As unemployment spirals and as we watch cattlemen on TV shoot cows in the head and kick 'em in the graves while millions are starving in the Sahel and Honduras and maybe even next door
We understand all the more deeply as Boston becomes Birmingham becomes Little Rock becomes Selma becomes Philadelphia, Mississippi, becomes yesterday all over again
We understand and we beg your pardon
We beg your pardon America because we have an understanding of karma
What goes around, comes around
And we beg your pardon for all of the lies and all of the people who've been ruined and who look forward to next year because they can't stand to look at this one
We beg your pardon America because the pardon you gave this time was not yours to give
Symbols of democracy, pinned up against the coast
Outhouse of bureaucracy, surrounded by a moat
Citizens of poverty are barely out of sight
Overlords escape in the evening with people of the night
Morning brings the tourists, peering eyes and rubber necks
To catch a glimpse of the cowboy making the world a nervous wreck
It’s a mass of irony for all the world to see
It’s the nation’s capital, it’s Washington D.C.
It’s the nation’s capital
It’s the nation’s capital
It’s the nation’s capital, it’s Washington D.C.
(mmmm-hmmm)
May not have the glitter or the glamour of L.A.
May not have the history or the intrigue of Pompeii
But when it comes to making music, and sure enough making news
People who just don’t make sense and people making do
Seems a ball of contradictions, pulling different ways
Between the folks who come and go, and one’s who’ve got to stay
It’s a mass of irony for all the world to see
It’s the nation’s capital, it’s Washington D.C.
It’s the nation’s capital
It’s the nation’s capital
It’s the nation’s capital, it’s Washington D.C.
Seems to me, it’s still in light time people knifed up on 14th street
Makes me feel it’s always the right time for them people showing up and coming clean
Did make the one seem kind of numb
It’s the nation’s capital
It’s the nation’s capital
It’s the nation’s capital, it’s Washington D.C.
(mmmm-hmmm)
Symbols of democracy, pinned up against the coast
Outhouse of bureaucracy, surrounded by a moat
Citizens of poverty are barely out of sight
Overlords escape in the evening with people of the night
Morning come and bring the tourists, craning rubber necks
Catch a glimpse of the cowboy making the world a nervous wreck
It’s a mass of irony for all the world to see
It’s the nation’s capital, it’s Washington D.C.
It’s the nation’s capital
It’s the nation’s capital
It’s the nation’s capital, it’s Washington D.C.
It’s the nation’s capital
Got you feeling capital
It's getting to be the time of year
When people once spoke of love and good cheer
Peace on Earth and good will to all men
And we all believed that there'd come a day
When peace would be much more than "on it's way"
Cause peace has been on it's way since I don't know when
And the folks who decide what will be
They haven't confided in me
And i don't think that everybody can wait 'til then
It makes me sad that my kids won't see
Christmas the way it used to be
I was so excited though we didn't have a dime
But that seems like such a long time ago
And I am still a child I know
But it seems like we've lost much more than the time
Cause the folks who decide what will be
They haven't confided in me
And I don't think that everybody can wait 'til then
No, I don't think that everybody can wait 'til then
Brother livin' in a cell,
Doin' time in a county jail,
Now you might think his life is hell,
But he told me, first room he ever had to himself
He's just, waitin' for the axe to fall,
Sometimes lord I think that's all,
When you're head is on a block
ain't no way for it to stop
You're just waitin' for the axe to fall.
Brother served in Viet Nam,
and found out no one gives a damn.
Agent Orange fell on his camp (but everybody went deaf)
Brother turned around on Uncle Sam.
Waiting for the axe to fall;
Sometimes, Lord I think that's all.
When your head is in the noose
and won't nobody turn you loose
you're waiting for the axe to fall.
Sister on the welfare line,
Examining the threads of her life,
She never thought she'd be cheatin' and lyin'
Just makin' sure her and her kids survive
It's gettin' tougher just, waitin' for the axe to fall
Sometimes lord I think that's all
When you're head is on the block
and ain't nobody trying to stop
You're just waitin' for the axe to fall
Last night grandma should got shook
'cause someone took her pocketbook
She ain't safe in the neighborhood
'cause too many youngin's up to no good
They're just, waitin' for the axe to fall
Sometimes lord I think that's all
When your head is in the noose
and won't nobody turn you loose
Standing in the ruins
Of another Black man's life,
or flying through the valley
They're separating day and night.
"I am death," cried the Vulture.
"For the people of the light."
Charon brought his raft
and came from the sea that sails on souls,
And saw the scavenger departing,
taking warm hearts to the cold.
He knew the ghetto was the haven
for the meanest creature ever known.
In a wilderness of heartbreak
and a desert of despair,
Evil's carrion of justice
shrieks a cry of naked terror.
He's taking babies from their momas
and leaving grief beyond compare.
So if you see the Vulture coming,
he's flying circles in your mind,
Remember there is no escaping
for he will follow close behind.
Only promised me a battle,
battle for your soul and mine.
He taking babies from their momas
And he's leaving
Leaving
Leaving
Leaving
During reconstruction time they were folks who have been promised 40 acres and a mule.
And they were told a man with their legal papers could be expected on a train from Washington.
They were folks who waited for him and there are folks still waiting for him.
But you can't depend on the train from Washington, it's 100 years overdue…
You can depend on the stars and planets yeah
They'll always tell you the truth
You can depend on the 15th of April Yeah
Somehow it always gets through
You can depend on the daily paper's calls
They surely bring you the blues
But don't depend on the train from Washington
It's one hundred years overdue
I see people, dragging on their own
I see them standing
Anxious near the tracks
I see people, a long long way from home
Wondering how they'll ever get back
You can depend on the politicians yeah
Always got a point of view
They are contemporary court magicians yeah
Sleight of mouth will dazzle you
You can depend on the repositions from them
Changes that you've got to go through
But don't depend on the train from Washington
It's one hundred years overdue
I see people, on their way to work
I see factories bursting at the seams
I see people listening for the whistle
On the train that will carry their dreams
I see people, on their way to work
I see factories bursting at the seams
I see people listening for the whistle
On the train that will carry their dreams
You can depend on the folks and gravity
Cuz both of them will bring you down
You can depend on catching something Yeah
Cause something is going around
You can depend on the first two numbers, but
Damn if the last one come through
But don't depend on the train from Washington
It's one hundred years overdue
You can't depend on the train from Washington
It's one hundred years overdue
Oh lord you see
You can't depend on the train from Washington
It's one hundred years overdue
Don't you over
But don't depend on the train from Washington
Eh eh eh .. eh you know it might not make it
You can't depend on the train from Washington
Everybody knows it's it's it's running late
You can't depend on the train from Washington
It's one hundred years overdue
It's long long time
You can't depend on the train from Washington
The Subject Was Faggots
and the quote was "ain't nothin' happenin' but faggots and dope"
Faggots and dope, faggots and faggots and faggots who line dot dot dot dot dot
Like that, 34th street and 8th avenue
Giggling and grinning and prancing and shit
Trying their best to see to see the misses and misery
and miscellaneous misfits who attend the faggot ball
faggots who have come to ball
faggots who have come to ball
faggots who were balling because they couldn't get their balls
inside the faggot hall
Balling, balling, ball-less faggots
cutie cootie and snoodie faggots
I mean you just had to dig it to dig it
the crowning attraction being the arrival of Ms Brooklyn
looking like a half-back in a mini-skirt
with swan feathers covering
his err hers a it's pectoral and balls
and he err she or it prepared to enter the faggot ball
but sitting on the corner digging all that I did as I did
long long, black limousines and long flowin' evening gowns
had there been no sign on the door saying "faggot ball"
Here I am after so many years
Hounded by hatred and trapped by fear
I'm in a box, I've got no place to go
If I follow my mind, I know I'll slaughter my own
Help me, I'm the prisoner won't you hear my plea?
I need somebody, yeah, to listen to me
I beg you, brothers and sisters
I'm counting on you, yeah
Black babies in the womb are shackled and bound
Chained by the caveman who keeps beauty down
Smacked on the ass when they're squalling and wet
Heir to a spineless man who never forgets
Never forgets that he's a prisoner, can't you hear my plea?
'Cause I need somebody, Lord knows, to listen to me
I'm a stranger to my son
Who wonders why his daddy runs, yeah
On my way to work in the morning
When I don't give a damn
Can't nobody, can't nobody
Can't nobody, can't nobody see just who in hell I am?
Hemmed in by a suit, yes, all choked up in a tie
Ain't no wonder some times near morning I hear my woman cry
She knows her man is a prisoner, won't you hear my plea?
Yeah, 'cause I need somebody to listen to me
My woman, she don't say but she hates
To see her man chained this way, yeah
Help me, I'm the prisoner
Speed on by, don't seem to have the time
What about this life?
What about this life?
Can I come by?
Issues in the paper (somehow I'm not concerned)
Seems that I've been here before
Here before, but I never learn
Children
Slowly turn
Time stay gone, we never saw it go
Now what do we have?
Now what do we have, that we may show?
Friends you swore you'd never lose (melted from your style)
Down the tunnels of your youth, of your youth,
Now you never smile
Children
Sometimes I feel like I’m just wasting time
Looking for another side
Sometime I feel like I’m losing my mind ‘cause there ain’t
No other side
Sometimes I’m just spinning my wheels, ain’t no big deal
Morning, there’s another side
Sometimes I feel like I’m just standing in place, ain’t no real race
Ain’t no other side
Life is like a circle and you end up where you started
If you end up where you started ain’t no other side
Yeah, but if life is like a curtain that I’m 90% certain that I’m looking through at something
Yes, I’m almost touching something on the other side
Yeah, the opposite of new is old
The opposite of young is old
Seems like everything has got another side
Yeah, but young ones want to be old ones
Old ones know what they would do if they was young ones
People ain’t never really satisfied
People ain’t never satisfied
If life is like a mirror then the nearer you get clearer
You can see it so much clearer
Feel like you know about the other side
My friends all swear that they know
What I should do with my life
How I should run my life
What should be happening with my life
They’re on the other side
They’re on the outside
I’m on the inside
Things always look so much better on the other side
Four O’clock in the morning
They don’t know
All the things I been needing
They don’t know
Breaking out in a sweat
And they don’t know
Feeling down
And they don’t know
They don’t know the other side
I need to go home
Momma could change it
Daddy could help me
Yes, I could go home
Yeah, Momma don’t need to see me this way
Know me this way
Touch me this way
Love me this way
Find me this way
I can’t go home
I’m saying
I don’t want to call him
I don’t want to know him
I don’t want to need him
I don’t want to feel it
I don’t want to know
But I know, know know
Hey, home
So I say tomorrow
Tomorrow [repeat]
I’m going home
Tomorrow ain’t coming
Tomorrow will always where it was
Tomorrow [repeat]
I need to go home
Maybe I could start all over at home
Without the whispers
Hanging on me
Pulling on me, rolling with me
Pulling on me
Yes, I’d like to go home
I have believed in my convictions
And have been convicted for my beliefs
Conned by the constitution
And harassed by the police.
I've been billed for the bill of rights
And been treated like I was wrong.
I have become a special amendment
For what included me all along.
Like "All men are created equal."
(No amendment needed here)
I've contributed in every field including cotton
From Sunset Strip to Washington Square.
Back during the non-violent era.
I was the only non-violent one.
As a matter of fact there was no non-violence
'cause too many rednecks had guns.
There seems to have been this pattern
That a lot of folks failed to pick up on.
But all black leaders who dared stand up
Wuz in jail, in the courtroom or gone.
Picked up indiscriminately
By the shocktroops of discrimination
To end up in jails or tied up in trails
While dirty tricks soured the nation.
I've been hoodwinked by professional hoods.
My ego has happened to me.
It'll be alright, just keep things cool!"
"And take the people off the street.
We'll settle all this at the conference table.
You just leave everything to me."
Which gets me back to my convictions
And being convicted for my belief
'cause I believe these smiles
in three piece suits
with gracious, liberal demeanor
took our movement off of the streets
and took us to the cleaners
In other words, we let up the pressure
And that was all part of their plan
And every day we allow to slip through our fingers
A circle spinning faster
And getting larger all the time
A whirlpool spelled disaster
For all the people who don't rhyme
Him who don't fit through the needle's eye
Him who just don't understand
Understand, understand, understand
A brand new sense of freedom
A brand new sense of time
Him may go and stand alone now
And leave the hate and fear behind
All the millions spent for killing
Seems the whole world must be dying
All the children who go hungry
How much food we could be buying
Him who don't fit through the needle's eye
Him who just don't understand
Understand, understand, understand
A brand new sense of freedom
A brand new sense of time
Him may go and stand alone now
And the leave the hate and fear behind
People wake up every morning
And simply push their lives aside
They seem to carry all their feelings
Crushed and crumbled up inside
Inside, inside, inside
Him who don't fit through the needle's eye
Him who just don't understand
So I went to see my father
Many questions on my mind
But he didn't want to answer me
God, the whole world must be blind
Him who don't fit through the needle's eye
Him may someday go insane
Insane, insane, insane
Without a brand new sense of freedom
A brand new sense of time
Him may go and stand alone now
Countryside was cold and still
There were three crosses on the hill
Each one wore a burning hood
To hide its rotten core of wood
And I say father, father I hear an iron sound
Hoof beats on the frozen ground
And downhill the riders came
Lord it was a cryin' shame
To see the blood upon their whips
To hear the snarlin' from their lips
And I cried mother, mother I feel a stabbing pain
Blood runs down like summers rain
And each one wore a mask of white
To hide his cruel face from sight
And each one sucked a hungry breath
Out of the empty lungs of death
And I say sister, sister, I need you to take my hand
It's always lonely when it's time to stand
He who rides with the klan
Is a devil and not a man
For underneath his white disguise
I have looked into his eyes
And I say brother, brother, stand by me
It's not so easy to be free
Father, mother, sister, brother, stand by me
It's not so easy to be free
It's not so easy to be free
It's not so easy to be free
Nobody ever said it would be easy
Nobody ever said it would be easy
His eyes half-closed revealed this world of nod(?).
a world of lonely men and no love.
oh god.
his life of seeming nonchalance can't hide
the pain and fear that in his mind resign.
from dawn till dawn his bodyhouse (/body, house?) was hurting and none of us can truly ...???.
we sat outside and ??? the ??
the fool is always easy to forecast others doom.
the savage beast that once soul-soothe/so soothed his brain,
has wired his ugly head and stirred/stayed (?) its claim and
called ???
here is his once more soul. he will have to add the sorrow's thole.
this men, still men will be like you and me(an ?).
upon the world reached out, they chose to flee.
crutch.
What's that music playin' on the radio?
What's that music playin' everywhere I go?
I don't think I've ever heard
a sweeter feelin' in the whole wide world
than that music playin' in my heart.
From time to time the darkness comes along
to terrorize the weak and challenge the strong.
The storm is coming, it grows on the waves
from Johannesburg to Montego Bay.
What's that music playin' on the radio?
What's that music playin' everywhere I go?
I don't think I've ever seen
another music that could make me feel
like that music playin' in my heart.
Justice is coming on the wings of the storm.
We resist in the present for those yet unborn.
Freedom is spreading like the wings of a bird
and the message it carries has got to be heard.
What's that music playin' on the radio?
What's that music playin' everywhere I go?
I don't think I've ever heard
a sweeter feelin' in the whole wide world
This is just like listening
to a conversation being held
by the many people who congregate
on one of the most popular blocks
in the largest area of black America
Did you ever eat cornbread and black eye peas
Or watermelon and mustard greens?
Get high as you can on Saturday night
Go to church on Sunday to set things right
Listen
I seen Miss Blake after Willy yesterday
She'd've killed anybody who got in her way
Hey look I got a TV for a pound on the head
And Jimmy Jean got the best Panamanian Red
No I ain't got on no underclothes
But we all got to get through this gypsy rose
I think Clay got his very good points
You say a trade bag with thirteen joints?
Who cares if LBJ is in town?
Up with Stokely and H. Rap Brown
I don't know if the riots is wrong
But whitey's been kickin' my ass for too long
I was s'posed to baby but they held my pay.
Did you hear what the number was yesterday?
Junkies is all right when they ain't broke
They leaves you alone when they high on dope
Damn, but I wish I could get up and move
I was doin' it when I was a colored boy of eight or nine or ten
I had never heard of Sigmund Freud but hell I was doin' it then
I was doin' it in my teenaged years when I was running the ghetto streets
Now I had never seen me no ink blot test but it still felt good to me
I was doin' it when I arrived in college searching for my degree
But Lord knows a degree wasn't all I got and that's the way it's supposed to be
I hope that when I have kids of my own they really don't get shook
If you're driving through the country on a lazy afternoon
Or you're watching your children playing after school
They seem to be so unaware of
The things that they soon have to take care of
We've got to do something to save the children
Soon it will be their turn to try and save the world
Right now they seem to play such a small part of
The things that they soon be right at the heart of
My little Tommy he said he wants to be a fireman
And little Mary she said she got to teach school
If we know all we say we know about the problems
Why can't we do something to try and solve them
We've got to do something to save the children
Soon it will be their turn to try and save the world
We got to do something to save the children
To save the children
Because I always feel like running
Not away, because there is no such place
Because, if there was I would have found it by now
Because it's easier to run,
Easier than staying and finding out you're the only one...who didn't run
Because running will be the way your life and mine will be described
As in "the long run"
Or as in having given someone a "run for his money"
Or as in "running out of time"
Because running makes me look like everyone else, though I hope there will ever be cause for that
Because I will be running in the other direction, not running for cover
Because if I knew where cover was, I would stay there and never have to run for it
Not running for my life, because I have to be running for something of more value to be running and not in fear
Because the thing I fear cannot be escaped, eluded, avoided, hidden from, protected from, gotten away from,
Not without showing the fear as I see it now
Because closer, clearer, no sir, nearer
Because of you and because of that nice
That you quietly, quickly be causing
And because you're going to see me run soon and because you're going to know why I'm running then
You'll know then
Glad to get high and see the slow motion world.
Just to reach, and touch, the half notes floating.
Worlds spinning orbit quicker than 9/8ths Dave Brubeck.
We come now, frantically searching for Thomas Moore, rainbow villages.
Up on suddenly, Charlie Mingus and our man Abdul Malik,
to add bass, to a bottomless pit of insecurity.
You may be plastic because you never meditate,
about the bottom of glasses, The third side of your universe.
Add on Alice Coltrane and her cosmic strains.
Still no vocal on blue black horizons.
Your plasticity is tested by a formless assault.
The sun can answer questions in tune, to all your sacrifices.
But why would our new jazz age give us no more mind expanding puzzles?
Enter John.
Blow from under, always, and never, so that the morning, the sun,
may scream of brain bending saxophones.
The third world arrives, with Yusef Lateef, and Pharaoh Saunders.
With oboes straining to touch the core of your unknown soul.
Ravi Shankar comes, with strings attached, prepared to stabilize your seventh sense,
Your black rhythm.
Up and down a silly ladder run the notes, without the words.
Words are important for the mind, but the notes are for the soul.
Miles Davis, So what?
Cannonball, Fiddler, Mercy.
Dexter Gordon, One Flight Up.
Donald Byrd, playing Cristo, but what about words?
Would you like to survive on sadness? Call on Ella and Jose Happiness.
Drift with Smokey, Bill Medley, Bobby Taylor, and Otis Redding.
Soul music where frustrations are washed by drums, Nina and Miriam.
Congo, Mongo, Beat me, senseless, bongo, Tonto.
Flash through dream worlds of STP and LSD.
Speed kills and sometimes musics call, is frustrated.
And the black man is confused.
Our speed is our life pace, much too fast, not good.
I beg you to escape, and live, and hear all of the real.
Until a call comes for you to cry elsewhere.
We must all cry, but tell me.
Jagged jigsaw pieces
Tossed about the room
I saw my grandma sweeping
With her old straw broom
She didn't know what she was doing
She could hardly understand
That she was really sweeping up..
Pieces of a man
I saw my daddy greet the mailman
And I heard the mailman say
"Now don't you take this letter to heart now Jimmy
Cause they've laid off nine others today"
He didn't know what he was saying
He could hardly understand
That he was only talking to
Pieces of a man
I saw the thunder and heard the lightning!
And felt the burden of his shame
And for some unknown reason
He never turned my way
Pieces of that letter
Were tossed about that room
And now I hear the sound of sirens
Come knifing through the gloom
They don't know what they are doing
They could hardly understand
That they're only arresting
Pieces of a man
I saw him go to pieces
I saw him go to pieces
He was always such a good man
He was always such a strong man
Yeah, I saw him go to pieces
Picture a man of nearly thirty
Who seems twice as old with clothes torn and dirty
Give him a job shining shoes
Or cleaning out toilets with bus station crews
Give him six children with nothing to eat
Expose them to life on a ghetto street
Tie an old rag around his wife's head
And have her pregnant and lying in bed
Stuff them all in a Harlem house
I sail out on my paper ship
The sea is made of fire
I ride my horse of nuts and bolts
We made to never tire
The world is just a simple circle
I've got to keep on turning, yeah
I've got to keep on turning
'Til I fall
Down to the top of a mountain
Inside a hollow stone
I pretend that I'm an iron man, yeah
Instead of flesh and bone
The world is just a simple circle
And it keep on turning, yeah
And it keep on turning
You've got to
Go away
I can't stand to see your face
Cause you've seen the weakest me
And now you know I'm only human
Instead of all the things I'd like to be
The world is just a simple circle
You've got to keep on turning, yeah
You've got to keep on turning
I want to make this a special tribute
to a family that contradicts the concepts
heard the rules but wouldn't accept
and women-folk raised me
and i was full grown before i knew
I came from a broken home
sent to live with my grandma down south
when my uncles was leaving
and my grandfather had just left for heaven
they said and as every-ologist would certainly note
i had no strong male figure right?
But lily Scott was absolutely not your mail order room service type cast black grandmother
i was moved in with her; temporarily, just until things were patched,
til this was patched and til that was patched
until i became at 3, 4, 5,6 ,7, 8, 9 and 10
the patch that held lily Scott who held me and like them 4
i become one more and I loved her from the absolute marrow of my bones
and we was holdin on,
i come from a broken home
She had more then the 5 senses
she knew more then books could teach
and raised everyone she touched just a little bit higher
and all around her there was a natural sense
as though she sensed what the stars say what the birds say
what the wind and the clouds say
a sensual soul and self that African sense
and she raised me like she raised 4 of her own
and i was hurt and scared and shocked when lily Scott left suddenly one night
and they sent a limousine from heaven to take her to god, if there is one.
So i knew she had gone; and
A giant eye zapped across the screen,
With tentacle type feeler type thin roots,
Reaching for someone maybe me,
With large black block letters,
Chiseled into the white around the pupils screaming,
R e v o l u t i o n,
Revolution,
And as the eye giant and green,
Sort of oozed with no obvious locomotion,
Closer and closer until it was like this on my screen,
It split and blood flowed down each side of the street,
Washing away things that we didn't need to see,
Just like beer cans peanut shells and copies of the daily news,
And then laying there, bleeding like a stuck pig,
Was a stuck pig,
You explained it to me I must admit
But just for the record you were talkin' shit
Y'all rap about no knock bein' legislated
For the people you've always hated
In this hell hole you, we, call home
No knock, the man will say
To keep that man from beating his wife
No knock, the man will say
To protect people from themselves
No knockin', head-rockin', inter-shockin'
Shootin', cussin', killin', cryin', lyin'
And bein' white
No knock
No knocked on my brother Fred Hampton
Bullet holes all over the place
No knocked on my brother Michael Harris
And jammed a shotgun against his skull
For my protection?
Who's gonna protect me from you?
The likes of you?
The nerve of you?
Your tomato face deadpan
Your dead hands ending another freedom fan
No knockin', head rockin', inter-shockin'
Shootin', cussin', killin', cryin', lyin'
And bein' white
But if you're wise, no knocker
You'll tell your no-knockin' lackeys
No knock on my brother's head
No knock on my sister's head
No knock on my brother's head
No knock on my sister's head
And double lock your door
Because soon someone may be no-knockin'
Ha, ha!
Yeah the doctors don't know, but New York was killing me,
Bunch of doctors coming round, they don't know
That New York is killing me
Yeah I need to go home and take it slow in Jackson, Tennessee
Let me tell ya fast city ain't living all
It's cracked up to be
Fast city living it all
It's cracked up to be
Yes seem I need to go home
And slow down in Jackson, Tennessee
Yes I lay down, I lay down
The doctor: "Try to take it all in"
Yeah lay down, lay down
To try to take it all in
(Take it all in)
Yeah you got 8 million people
And I didn't have a single friend
Don't you know, don't you know
New York was killing me
Yes, I was standing nearly dying here
New York was killing me
Seems like I need to start over
And move back home in Jackson, Tennessee
Lord have mercy, mercy on me
Yeah Lord have mercy, have mercy on me
Tell him to bury my body back home in Jackson, Tennessee
Yeah Lord have mercy, have mercy on me
Yeah I need to be back home, need to be back home,
Need to be back home, need to be back home yeah
Born in Chicago but I go home Tennessee
And when the morning comes
If there's been no rest for you
We've been friends long enough
You should know what to do
If that's how you started your day
Why keep running away
When you could
Come and join me on my cloud
And in the afternoon
If things are still the same
You've always held a key
To effect the change
What in the morning I said
When you're running away from me
And you could come and join me on my cloud
How you must wonder in the evening
How everything got so turned around
How everything got so turned around
And I've saved a special place
Right next to me
And it's always been your space
I'm sure that you will see
You could always count on me
To love you and let you be free
So why not come and join me
You could come and join me
You can come and join me
On my cloud
How you must wonder in the evening
How everything got so turned around
My life's been one of movement, I've been traveling
Just as fast as I can
But I've been no more successful at getting away
Than was my old man
But I'm committed to the consequences
Whether I stand or fall
And when I get back to my life,
I think I'm gonna give her a call
She's been waiting patiently
For me to put my trip together
And it touches something deep inside
When she says she'd wait forever
But forever's right upon me now
That is, if it ever comes at all
And when i get back to my life
Hey, yeah, we the same brothas from a long time ago
We was talkin’ about television and doin’ it on the radio
What we did was to help our generation realize
They had to get out there and get busy cause it wasn’t gonna be televised
We got respect for you rappers and the way they be free-weighin’
But if you’re gon’ be teachin’ folks things, make sure you know what you’re sayin’
Older folks in our neighborhood got plenty of know-how
Remember if it wasn’t for them, you wouldn’t be out here now
And I ain’t comin’ at you with no disrespect
All I’m sayin’ is that you damn well got to be correct
Because if you’re gonna be speakin’ for a whole generation
And you know enough to try and handle their education
Make sure you know the real deal about past situations
It ain’t just repeatin’ what you heard on the local TV stations
…Sometimes they tell lies and put ‘em in a truthful disguise
But the truth is that’s why we said it wouldn’t be televised
They don’t know what to say to our young folks, but they know that you do
And if they really knew the truth…why would they tell you?
The first sign is peace, tell all them gun totin’ young brothas
That the man is glad to see us out there killin’ one another
We raised too much hell when they was shootin’ us down
So they started poisoning our minds tryin’ to jerk us all around
And they tell us they got to come in and control our situation
They want half of us on dope and the other half in incarceration
If the ones they want dead ain’t killed by what they instigated
They put some dope on a brotha’s body and claim it was drug related
Tell them drug related means there don’t need to be no investigation
Or at least that’s the way they’re gon’ play it on the local TV stations
All your 9-millimeter brothas…give them somthin’ to think about
Tell them you heard that this is the new word, they got to work that stuff out
But somehow they feel in the wrong way with a gun in their hands
They feel real independent…but they just pullin’ contracts for the man
Five and five will tell you it’s hopeless out there on the avenue
But if they really knew the truth…why would they tell you?
And if they look at you like you’re insane
And they start callin’ you scarecrow and say you ain’t got no brain
Or start tellin’ folks that you suddenly gone lame
Or that white folks had finally co-opted your game
Or worse yet implying that you don’t really know…
That’s the same thing they said about us…a long time ago
Young rappers, one more suggestion before I get out of your way
But I appreciate the respect you give me and what you got to say
I’m sayin’ protect your community and spread that respect around
Tell brothas and sistas they gotta calm that bullshit down
Cause we’re terrorizin’ our old folks and brought fear into our homes
And they ain’t got to hang out with the senior citizens
Just tell them, “Dammit…leave the old folks alone”
And we know who rippin’ off the neighborhood, tell them, “That BS has got to stop!”
Tell them you’re sorry they can’t handle it out there
But they got to take the crime off the block
And if they look at you like you’re insane
And they start callin’ you scarecrow and say you ain’t got no brain
Or start tellin’ folks that you suddenly gone lame
Or that white folks had finally co-opted your game
Or worse yet saying that you really don’t know…
That’s the same thing they said about me a long time ago
And if they tell folks that you finally lost your nerve
That’s the same thing they said about us, when we said, “Johannesburg”
But I think the young folks need to know, that things don’t go both ways
You can’t talk respect of every other song or just every other day
What I’m speakin’ on now is the raps about the women folks
On one song she’s your African Queen on the next one she’s a joke
And you ain’t said no words that I haven’t heard, but that ain’t no compliment
It only insults eight people out of ten and questions your intelligence
Four letter words or four syllable words won’t make you important
It’ll only magnify how shallow you are and let everybody know it
And if they look at you like they think you insane
Or they call you scarecrow thinkin’ you ain’t got no brain
Or start tellin’ folks that you suddenly gone lame
Or that white folks have finally co-opted your game
Or you really don’t know…They said that about me a long time ago
If they finally start to tell people that you lost your nerve
That’s what they said about Johannesburg
You ain’t insane…you have got a brain
You haven’t gone lame; you have got your game
Remember…keep the nerve
Keep the nerve
Keep the nerve
Keep the nerve
Early this morning
when you knocked
upon my door (2x)
An I say
Hello Satan
I believe its time to go
Me and the Devil
Walking side by side (2x)
And I'm gonna see my woman
'til I get satisfied
See See
You don't see why
Like you'a dog me 'round
*Now babe you know I ain't do it like that
Say I
Don't see why
people dawging me around
It must be that old old evil spirit
that spirit drop me down in your ground
you may
bury my body
down by the highway side
*I don't really care where you bury me when I'm gone
I'm gone
you may bury my body
down by the highway side
So my old evil spirit
can greyhound
bus that ride
--Bonus part
Standing
in the ruins of another black mans life
Or flying through the valley
separating day and night
I am am Death,
Cried the Vulture,
for the people of the light
Caron brought his raft
from the sea that sails on souls
and I saw the scavenger departing
taking warm hearts to the cold
he knew the ghetto was a haven
for the meanest creature ever known
in a wilderness of heart break
in a desert of despair
Evil's clarion of justice
shrieks a cry of naked terror
taking babies from their mamas
leaving grief beyond compare
so if you see the vulture coming
flying circles in your mind
remember their is no escaping
for he will follow close behind
only promise me a battle
a battle
for your soul and mind
and mine
Ever feel kinda down and out, you don't know just what to do--
Livin' all of your days in darkness let the sun shine through--
Ever feel that somehow, somewhere, you've lost your way--
And if you don't get help quick you won't make it through the day--
Could you call on Lady Day,
Could you call on John Coltrane
Now ‘cause they'll
They'll wash your troubles
Your troubles your troubles
Your troubles away!
Plastic people with plastic minds are on their way to plastic homes--
No beginning there ain't no ending just on and on and on and on and on, it's
All because they're so afraid to say that they're alone--
Until our hero rides in, rides in on his saxophone.
Could you call on Lady Day,
Could you call on John Coltrane
Now ‘cause they'll,
They'll wash your troubles,
Your troubles, your troubles
Your troubles away!
Ever feel kinda down and out, you don't know just what to do--
Livin' all of your days in darkness let the sun shine through--
Ever feel that somehow, somewhere, you've lost your way--
And if you don't get help quick you won't make it through the day--
Could you call on Lady Day,
Could you call on John Coltrane
Now ‘cause they'll,
They'll wash your troubles,
Your troubles, your troubles
Your troubles away!
Your troubles, your troubles
Your troubles away...
Your troubles, your troubles
Brothers and sisters there is a place for you in America
Places are being prepared and readied night and day, night and day
The white boy's plan is being readied night and day, night and day
Listen close to what rap say bout traps like Allenwood P.A.
Already in D.C. to preventatively detain you and me
How long you think it's going to be before even our dreams ain't free
You think I exaggerate check out Allenwood P.A.
And night and day, night and day - the white boy's plotting night and day, night and day
The Jews and Hitler come to mind
The thought of slavery far behind
But white paranoia is here to stay
The white boy's scheming night and day, night and day
What you think bout the King Alfred Plan
You ain't heard; where you been man
If I may paraphrase the government notice reads:
"Should there at anytime become a clear and present danger initiated by any radical element threatening the operation of the government of the United States of America, members of this radical element shall be tranported to dentention centers until such time as their threat has been eliminated - code KING ALFRED"
Bullshit I bet you say there ain't no Allenwood P.A.
And people ain't waiting night and day, night and day, night and day
There will be without the Motown sound and thunderbird
Wollowing in the echoes of Mlcolm's words
There must be black unity, there must be black unity
For in the end unity will be thrust upon us and we upon it and each other
Lock in cages penned, hemmed in shoulder to shoulder - arms out-stretched
For just a crust of bread,watermelon, mirages and oasis that does not exist
Cuntured up by the bubbling stinch of unwash bodies and unsanitary quarters
Concrete and bobbed-wire, babies screaming
Stumbling around in a mental circle because you never cared enough to be black
In the end unity will be thrust upon us - lanketed, stipled
A salty taste in your mouth from blood oozing from cracks and wooly heads
Red pools becoming thicker than syrup slow down your face
Spurs matte from the life force sprung loose from wells
Welled deep by the enforcers of mock justice of the red, white and blue
In the end unity will be thrust upon us
Let us unite because of love and not hate
Let us unite on our own and not because of bobbed-wired death
You dare not ignore the things I say
I had said I wasn't going to write no more poems like this
I had confessed to myself all along, tracer of life, poetry trends
That awareness, consciousness, poems that screamed of pain and the origins of pain and death had blanketed my tablets
And therefore, my friends, brothers, sisters, in-laws, outlaws, and besides -- they already knew
But brother Torres, common ancient bloodline brother Torres is dead
I had said I wasn't going to write no more poems like this
I had said I wasn't going to write no more words down about people kicking us when we're down
About racist dogs that attack us and drive us down, drag us down and beat us down
But the dogs are in the street
The dogs are alive and the terror in our hearts has scarcely diminished
It has scarcely brought us the comfort we suspected
The recognition of our terror and the screaming release of that recognition
Has not removed the certainty of that knowledge -- how could it
The dogs rabid foaming with the energy of their brutish ignorance
Stride the city streets like robot gunslingers
And spread death as night lamps flash crude reflections from gun butts and police shields
I had said I wasn't going to write no more poems like this
But the battlefield has oozed away from the stilted debates of semantics
Beyond the questionable flexibility of primal screaming
The reality of our city, jungle streets and their Gestapos
Has become an attack on home, life, family and philosophy, total
It is beyond the question of the advantages of didactic niggerisms
The motherfucking dogs are in the street
In Houston maybe someone said Mexicans were the new niggers
In LA maybe someone said Chicanos were the new niggers
In Frisco maybe someone said Orientals were the new niggers
Maybe in Philadelphia and North Carolina they decided they didn't need no new niggers
I had said I wasn't going to write no more poems like this
But dogs are in the street
It's a turn around world where things are all too quickly turned around
It was turned around so that right looked wrong
It was turned around so that up looked down
It was turned around so that those who marched in the streets with bibles and signs of peace became enemies of the state and risk to national security
So that those who questioned the operations of those in authority on the principles of justice, liberty, and equality became the vanguard of a communist attack
It became so you couldn't call a spade a motherfucking spade
Brother Torres is dead, the Wilmington Ten are still incarcerated
Ed Davis, Ronald Regan, James Hunt, and Frank Rizzo are still alive
And the dogs are in the motherfucking street
I had said I wasn't going to write no more poems like this
Basie was never really commonplace
He was always measures ahead.
Ellington was more than number one
For the music and things that he said.
Bird was the word back when tenors were heard
From Kansas right up to the Prez
And Billie was really the Queen of a scene
That keeps echoing on in my head.
What it has will surely last but is that Jazz?
Miles had a style that amazes and raises
The spirits from deep in your soul.
'Trane struck a vein of laughter and pain
Adventures the mind could explore.
Stevie and Bob talk of freedom and 'Jah'
In their own individual ways.
Playing and singing as long as its bringing
A message is all that it says.
What is has will surely last but is that Jazz?
We overanaylze we let others define
A thousand precious feelings from our past.
When we express love and tenderness
Is that Jazz? Is that Jazz? Is that Jazz? Is that Jazz?
Dizzy's been busy while Grover gets us over
With notes that go straight to the heart.
Brother Ron gets it on with a bassline so strong
That the sounds seem to glow in the dark.
I take pride in what's mine - is that really a crime -
When you know I ain't got nothing else?
Only millions of sounds picks me up when I'm down;
Let me salvage a piece of myself.
You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and
skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Mendel Rivers to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, the revolution will not be televised, Brother.
There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mays
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
on reports from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the right occasion.
Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so god damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally screwed
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.
There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb or
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash or Englebert Humperdink.
The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be right back
after a message about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver's seat.
The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
I did not become someone different
That I did not want to be
But I'm new here
Will you show me around
No matter how far wrong you've gone
You can always turn around
Met a woman in a bar
Told her I was hard to get to know
And near impossible to forget
She said i had an ego on me
The size of Texas
Well I'm new here and I forget
Does that mean big or small
No matter how far wrong you've gone You can always tournaround
And I'm shedding plates like a snake
And it may be crazy but I'm
the closest thing I have
To a voice of reason
Turnaround turnaround turnaround
And you may come full circle
and be new here again
I know you've been hurt by someone else
I can tell by the way you carry yourself
But if you let me, here's what I'll do
I'll take care of you
I've loved and I lost the same as you
So you see I know just what you've been through
And if you let me, here's what I'll do
I'll take care of you
You won't ever have to worry
You won't ever have to whine
For I'll be there beside you
To dry your weeping eye
So darling tell me that you'll be true
There's no doubt in my mind, I know what I want to do
And then just as sure as one and one is two
I know I'll take care of you
I'll take care of you
I'll take care of you
I'm gonna take myself a piece of sunshine
And paint it all over my sky
Be no rain..
Be no rain..
I'm gonna take the song from every bird
And make em sing it just for me
Bird's got something to teach us all
About being free, yeah
Be no rain..
Be no rain..
And I think I'll call it morning
From now on
Why should I survive on sadness?
And tell myself I got to be alone
Why should I subscribe to this world's madness?
Knowing that I've got to live on
Yeah I think I'll call it morning
From now on
I'm gonna take myself a piece of sunshine
And paint it all over my sky
Be no rain...
Be no rain...
I'm gonna take the song from every bird
And make them sing it just for me
Cause why should I hang my head
Why should I let tears fall from my eyes?
When I've seen everything there is to see
And I know there is no sense in crying
I know there ain't no sense in crying
Yeah I think I'll call it morning
From now on
I'll call it morning from now on, yeah
Cause there ain't gonna be no rain
Be no rain
Be no rain
A junkie walking through the twilight
I'm on my way home
I left three days ago, but no one seems to know I'm gone
Home is where the hatred is
Home is filled with pain and it,
might not be such a bad idea if i never, never went home again
stand as far away from me as you can and ask me why
hang on to your rosary beads
close your eyes to watch me die
you keep saying, kick it, quit it, kick it, quit it
God, but did you ever try
to turn your sick soul inside out
so that the world, so that the world
can watch you die
home is where I live inside my white powder dreams
home was once an empty vacuum that's filled now with my silent screams
home is where the needle marks
try to heal my broken heart
and it might not be such a bad idea if I never, if I never went home again
home again
home again
home again
kick it, quit it
kick it, quit it
kick it, quit it
Brother man nowadays livin' in the ghetto
Where the dangers sure enough real.
Well when he's out late at night,
and if he's got his head on right,
Well, I lay you 9 to 5 he's walking with steel.
Brother Man says he's 'fraid of gangsters
Messing with people just for fun
He don't want to be next.
He got a family to protect.
So just last week he bought himself a gun.
Everybody got a pistol, everybody got a .45
And the philosophy seem to be,
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up theirs, I'll give up mine.
This is a violent civilization;
If civilization's where I am.
Every channel that I stop on
Got a different kind of cop on
Killing them by the million for Uncle Sam.
Saturday night just ain't that special.
Yeah, I got the constitution on the run.
'Cause even though we've got the right
To defend our home, to defend our life,
Got to understand to get it in hand about the guns.
Everybody's got a pistol. Everybody got a .45.
The philosophy seems to be,
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up, I, I'll give up...
Saturday night just ain't that special.
Freedom to be afraid is all you want.
Yes if you don't want to be next.
You've got a family to protect.
9 out of 10, you've got a friend, you've got a gun.
Everybody got a pistol. Everybody got a .45.
And the philosophy seems to be,
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up theirs, I'll give up mine.
Everybody got a pistol, this mosty be the NRA
Yeah 'cause when it's time to line up
You know damn well they're gonna shine up
Everybody...
And the philosophy seem to be
At least as near as I can see,
Grandma's hands clapped to church on Sunday mornings
Grandma's hands played the tambourine so well
Grandma's hands used to issue out a warning
She say, "Scotty why you run so fast,
Might fall on a piece of glass,
Might be snakes there in that grass?"
Grandma's hands, they keep on calling to me.
Grandma's hands soothed the local unwed mothers
Grandma's hands used to ache sometimes and swell
Grandma's hands, lord they'd really come in handy
She say, "Bobbie why you want to whip that boy?
What you want to whip him for?
He didn't throw no apple core."
Grandma's hands, they keep on calling to me.
Grandma's hands soothed the local unwed mothers
Grandma's hands used to ache sometimes and swell
Grandma's hands, well they really came in handy
She say, "Bobbie why you want to whip that boy?
What you want to whip him for?
He didn't throw no apple core."
But I don't have grandma anymore
My life is one of movement
I been running as fast as I can
I've inherited trial and error directly from my old man
But I'm committed to the consequences
Whether I stand or fall
And when I get back to my life
I think I'm gonna give her a call
She's been waiting patiently
For me to get myself together
And it touches something deep inside
When she said she'd wait forever
Because forever's right up on me now
That is, if it ever comes at all
And when I'm back to my life
(What we want to discuss here
are routes out of the ghetto.
This is called
the "Get Out of the Ghetto" blues.)
I know you think you're cool--
LORD, if they bus your kids to school...
I know you think you're cool,
Just cuz they bus your kids to school.
But you ain't got a thing to lose;
You just got the get out of the ghetto blues.
I know you think you're cool
If you're gettin' two WELFARE checks;
You done TOLD me you think you're cool
Because you're gettin' two WELFARE checks.
Yea! But you got ten years to lose (if they catch you)
Just tryin' to fight that get out of the ghetto blues.
(what it is, what it is.)
If he don't catch you in the wash,
LORD knows he'll catch you in the rinse.
I know you think you're cool
Just 'cuz you shooting that stuff in your arm.
I seen you nodding
'Cuz you shoot that STUFF into your arm.
And it don't matter which pine box you choose:
You got the get out of the ghetto blues.
Find a shadow cast by rainbows
There you’ll meet the sage.
Feeding rabbits bits of lettuce or cleaning out the cage.
He can give you more direction than you’ve ever known.
Show you your bronzed baby shoes
Now, my how you have grown!
Ain’t it nice to fly? You’re waving as soft clouds go by,
But Peace won’t be still of its own free will.
Say you want to go exploring; you got to find some truth.
Can’t stand one more day of Christians shouting down at you.
You say you don’t dig politics that never was your bag.
People who could run for office wave their private flag.
Ain’t it nice to fly? You’re waving as soft clouds go by,
But peace won’t be still of its own free will
Ain’t it nice to fly? You’re waving as soft clouds go by,
In 1600 I was a darkie
Until 1865, a slave
In 1900 I was a nigger
Or at least, that was my name
In 1960 I was a negro
And then brother Malcom came along
And then some nigger shot Malcom down
But the bitter truth lives on
Martin is dead
With Martin as our leader
We prayed, and marched
And marched, and prayed
Things were changing
Things were getting better
But things were not together
With Malcom as our leader,
We learned
And thought
And thought we had learned
Things were better
Things were changing
But things were not together
And now it is your turn,
We are tired of praying, and marching, and thinking, and learning
Brothers wanna start cutting, and shooting, and stealing, and burning
You are three hundred years ahead in equality
But next summer may be too late
To look back
In 1600 I was a darkie
And until 1865 a slave
In 1900 I was a nigger
Or at least that was my name
In 1960 I was a negro
And then Malcom came along
Yes, but some nigger shot Malcom down
Though the bitter truth lives on
Well now I am a black man
And though I still go second class
Where as once I wanted the white man's love
Mmmmm
I can't seem to find
the words to say (to say)
I don't have strength to play the games
you need to play (to play)
Every day I seem to be running from the truth
I ask myself questions but it just ain't no use
'Cause it seems no matter, no matter, what I try to do
I'm still loving and living, lying and losing
Every day (Yeah, every day)
I've got a job
And to say the least
It don't mean a thing (it don't mean a thing)
It don't begin to compare
With the hurt and pair that I've seen (I've seen)
Sometimes I know I can't tell wrong from right
I don't seem to know day from night
It's no wonder that the whole world uptight
They're just loving and living, lying and losing
Every day (Yeah, every day)
Stop on the way home
From work to have a drink
Just to give myself a little time to think
'Cause it seems that more and more I start to realize
That the truth that I wanted
The love that I needed
Has somehow disappeared before my eyes
I can't seem to find the words I need to say (to say)
I can't find strength enough to play the games you need, you need to play (to play)
'Cause every day you got me, got me running from the truth
And no matter, no matter what I try to do
It seems that somehow it just ain't no use
I'm still loving and living, lying and losing
Can't seem to remember
God it's so confusing
I'm still loving and living, lying and losing
Ahh lovely day……
I never really thought of myself as a complex man,
Or as someone who was really that hard to understand.
But it would hardly take a genius to realize
That I’ve always been a lot too arrogant and a little too f$%kin’ wise
That was a combination that made folks feel duty bound,
To do whatever they could to try and shoot me down.
To head off some of the things I might possibly say,
And see if they couldn’t take some of my pride away.
To bring me disappointment and teach me to fear it
Obviously these are folks that just didn’t have no spirit
Spirits say
[Chorus]
Don’t give up (spirits say don’t give up)
Yes it’s time to stop your fallin’
You’ve been down long enough
Can’t you hear the spirits callin’
Yes it’s the spirits
Can’t you hear iiiiiit
Callin’ your name [x2]
Yeah talkin’ bout spiriiiiiiiiiiits heh
There are people whose lives are so far of the track
That what they like best about life is stabbing’ brothers in the back
And I was obviously too blind and probably too weak
To see who was responsible for my losing streak
The best way to explain it is to say simply because
I was looking around outside and the truth is I was
the one. So I got locked into all of the analysis
And found myself locked into a kind of paralysis
And something was calling and I almost didn’t hear it
But I spent a lot of time being blessed by the spirits
They keep saying
[Chorus]
I didn’t matter if it was a child or and adult
There was absolutely no-one that I could not insult.
So that I could isolate myself somewhere off to the side
And continue to juggle all the possible whys
The warmth I wanted to generate so well
Had turned into a frozen hell
And the discouraging injustices I felt
Had pinned me somewhere inside a drug infested cell
Where those who told didn’t know and those who knew didn’t tell
And “I could continue to feel sorry for my self” [echo of “”]
And then I heard
[Chorus]
Ain’t no way overnight to turn your life around
And this ain’t the conversation of someone that never falls back down
But no matter how long you’ve been on trial
With the days and weeks of self denial
And no matter how many times you’ve tried to make it
And found out that right then you just couldn’t take it
If you are looking for a looser who found strength and success
Remember the spirit of Brother Malcolm X
And know that you can leave all your mistakes behind
The day that you “really make up your mind” [echo of “”]
Come on brother… come on up
Stand on up and say…
Did you hear what they said,
Did you hear what they said,
Did you hear what they said,
They said another brother's dead,
They said he's dead...but he can't be buried,
They said he's dead...but he can't be buried,
Come on, come on,come on,come on
this can't be real.
Did you hear what they said,
Did you hear what they said,
Did you hear what they said,
They said,they shot him in his head,
a shot in the head to save his country,
a shot in the head to save his country,
Come on, come on,come on,come on
this can't be real.
Did you hear what they said,
Yeah did you hear what they said,
Did you hear what they said,
About his mother and how she cried,
They said she cried,'cause her only son was dead
They said she cried,'cause her only son was dead
Woman,could you imagine if your only son was dead
And somebody told you,he couldn't be buried,
hey,hey,come on,come on,come on,come on
I've got a feeling
About combinations and how they
Work out so well
It only happens when people don't dwell on
The time or the feeling
And about combinations it's true that
North and south attract
Yes, but forever ain't a fact
To consider like our combination
And you can tear this moment down
And you can make me explain
Every little thing and every situation
But life turns itself around
And all the laughter and the pain
Simply helps us to maintain our combinations
And I know a sister
Who says combinations are created in the stars
Something to do with my Venus and my Mars being in line
To bring about combinations that will mix in my mind
Until I'm never quite satisfied
We deal in too many externals, brother.
Always afros, handshakes, and dashikis.
Never can a man build a working structure for black capitalism.
Always does the man read Mao or Fanon.
I think I know you would-be black revolutionaries too well.
Standing on a box on a corner, talking about blowing the white boy away.
That's not where it's at, yet, brother.
Calling this man an Uncle Tom,
And telling this woman to get an afro,
But you won't speak to her if she looks like hell, will you, brother?
Some of us been checking you act out kinda closely.
And by now it's looking kinda shaky, the way you been rushing people with your super-black bag.
Jumping down on some black men with both feet because they are after their B.A.
But you're never around when your B.A. is in danger.
I mean your black ASS.
I think it was a little too easy for you to forget that you were a negro before Malcolm.
You drove your white girl through the village every Friday night,
While the grass roots stared in envy and drank wine.
Do you remember?
You need get your memory banks organized, brother.
Show that man you call an Uncle Tom just where he is wrong.
Show that woman that you are a sincere black man.
All we need to do is see you SHUT UP AND BE BLACK.
Help that woman.
Help that man.
I been down in Pennsylvania,
Where I was working in the mine.
And I been down in Cincinnati;
They laid me off the assembly line.
Yeah, they got me looking everywhere,
But I ain't too proud of what I found.
And you can't name where I ain't been down.
'Cause there ain't no place I ain't been down.
I was down in Kansas City,
Where even the blues sell by the pound
And I been down in New York City, brother,
And that ain't no place to be down.
Yeah, I'm a-looking at the face of the children;
You see, we're looking for a higher ground,
And you can't name where we ain't been down.
'Cause there ain't no place we ain't been down.
We fell down somewhere
Between the cities and the towns.
We went down, I know,
Between the smiles and the frowns.
And if they call me in the morning,
I mean, I'd recognize the sound,
'Cause you can't name where we ain't been down.
There ain't no place we ain't been down.
Standing in the shadows
It sho'nuff (sure enough) looks like rain.
I see the steel-gray clouds above me
Yeah, well the anguish and the pain.
Yeah, I been looking everywhere for peace,
But I swear, there just ain't none around.
But you can't name where I ain't been down.
'Cause there ain't no place I ain't been down.
We been down
Between the cities and the towns.
Yeah, been down somewhere
Between the smiles and the frowns.
And if they call me in the morning,
I mean, I'd recognize the sound,
'Cause you can't name where I ain't been down.
I was wondering about our yesterdays,
and starting digging through the rubble
and to say, at least somebody went
through a hell of a lot of trouble
to make sure that when we looked things up
we wouldn't fair too well
and that we would come up with totally unreliable
portraits of ourselves.
But I compiled what few facts I could,
I mean, such as they are
to see if we could shed a little bit of light
and this is what I got so far:
First, white folks discovered Africa
and they claimed it fair and square.
Cecil Rhodes couldn't have been robbing nobody
'cause he said there was nobody there.
White folks brought all the civilization,
since there wasn't none around.
They said 'how could these folks be civilized
when you never see nobody writing nothing down?'
And just to prove all their suspicions,
it didn't take too long.
They found out there were whole groups of people, in plain sight,
running around with no clothes on. That's right!
The women, the men, the young and old,
righteous white folks covered their eyes.
So no time was spent considering the environment.
Hell no! This here, this just wasn't civilized!
And another piece of information they had,
or at least this how we were taught
is that 'unlike the very civilized people of Europe'
these tribal units actually fought!
And yes, there was some rather crude implements
and yes, there was primitive art
and yes they were masters of hunting and fishing
and courtesy came from the heart.
And yes there was medicine, love and religion,
intertribal communication by drum.
But no paper and pencils and other utensils
and hell, these folks never even heard of a gun.
And this is why the colonies came
to stabilize the land.
Because the Dark Continent had copper and gold
and the discoverers had themselves a plan.
They would discover all the places with promise.
You didn't need no titles or deeds.
You could just appoint people to make everything legal,
to sanction the trickery and greed.
And back in the jungle when the natives got restless
they would call that 'guerrilla attack'
and they would never describe that the folks finally got wise
and decided they would fight back.
And still we are victims of word games,
semantics is always a bitch:
places once referred to as under-developed
are now called 'mineral rich.'
And the game goes on eternally
unity kept just beyond reach
Egypt and Libya used to be in Africa,
they've been moved to the Middle East.
There are examples galore I assure you,
but if interpreting were left up to me
I'd be sure every time folks knew this version wasn't mine
The economy is in an uproar
The whole damn countries is in the red
Tax and fairs are going up
You say, "Billy Green is dead"?
The government can't decide on bussin'
or at least thats what they said
Yea I heard you, when you told me
You said, "Billy Green was dead"
But let me tell you bout these hot-pants that this big legged sister wore
when i partied with the alphas
what?
Billy took an overdose
well now junkies will be junkies
but did you see Gunsmoke last night?
man they had themselves a shootout and folks was dyin' left and right
At the end when Matt was cornerd i had damn near give up hope
What you? Why you keep on interrupting me? you say, My son is taking dope?
Call the law and call the doctor!
What you mean i shouldn't scream?
My only son is taking dope?
Should i sit here like I'm pleased?
Is that familiar anybody?
Check out whats inside your head
Because it never seems to matter
Some people think that America invented the blues
And few people doubt that America is the home of the blues
As the bluesicians have gone all over the world carrying the blues message
And the world has snapped its fingers and tapped its feet right along with the blues folks
But, the blues has always been totally American
As American as apple pie
As American as the blues
As American as apple pie
The question is why?
Why should the blues be so at home here
Well, America provided the atmosphere
America provided the atmosphere for the blues and the blues was born
The blues was born on the American wilderness
The blues was born on the beaches where the slave ships docked
Born on the slave man's auction block
The blues was born and carried on the howling wind
The blues grew up a slave
The blues grew up as property
The blues grew up in Nat Turner visions
The blues grew up in Harriet Tubman courage
The blues grew up in small town deprivation
The blues grew up in big city isolation
The blues grew up in the nightmares of the white man
The blues grew up in the blues singing of Bessie and Billie and Ma
The blues grew up in Satchmo's horn, on Duke's piano and Langston's poetry, on Robeson's baritone
The point is
That the blues has grown
The blues is grown now, full grown
And you can trace the evolution of the blues
On a parallel line with the evolution of this country
From Plymouth Rock to acid-rock
From 13 states to Watergate
The blues is grown
But not the home
The blues is grown
But the country has not
The blues remembers everything the country forgot
It's a bicentennial year and the blues is celebrating a birthday
And it's a bicentennial blues
America has got the blues and it's a bicentennial edition
The blues view might amuse you
But make no mistake, it's a bicentennial year
A year of hysterical importance
A year of historical importance
Ripped off like donated moments from the past
200 years ago this evening
200 years ago last evening
And what about now?
The blues is now
The blues has grown up and the country has not
The country has been ripped off
Ripped off like the Indians
Ripped off like jazz
Ripped off like nature
Ripped off like Christmas
Man-handled by media overkill
Goosed by aspiring vice presidents
Violated by commercial corporations
A bicentennial year
The year the symbol transformed into the B-U-Y centennial
Buy a car
Buy a flag
Buy a map
Until the public in mass has been bludgeoned into bicentennial submission
Or bicentennial suspicion
I fall into the latter category
It's a blues year
And America has got the blues
It's got the blues because of partial deification
Of partial accomplishments
Over partial periods of time
Halfway justice
Halfway liberty
Halfway equality
It's a half-ass year
And we would be silly in all our knowledge
In all our self-righteous knowledge
When we sit back and laugh and mock the things that happen in our lives
To accept anything less than the truth
About this bicentennial year
And the truth relates to 200 years of people and ideas getting by
It got by George Washington
The ideas of justice, liberty and equality
Got cold by George Washington
Slave-owner general
Ironic that the father of this country
Should be a slave owner
The father of this country a slave-owner
Having got by him
It made it easy to get by his henchman
The creators of this liberty
Who slept in the beds with the captains of slave ships
Fought alongside black freed men in the union army
And left America a legacy of hypocrisy
It's a blues year
Got by Gerald Ford
Oatmeal man
Has declared himself at odds
With people on welfare, people who get food stamps
Day care children, the elderly, the poor, women
And people who might vote for Ronald Reagan
Ronald Reagan, it got by him
Hollyweird
Acted like a actor
Acted like a liberruuuuuuuulllzz lolz
Acted like General Franco when he acted like governor of California
Now he acts like somebody might vote for him for president
It got by Jimmy Carter
Skippy
Got by Jimmy Carter and got by him and his friend the colonel
The creators of southern-fried triple talk
A blues trio
America got the blues
It got by Henry Kissinger
The international godfather of peace
A piece of Vietnam
A piece of Laos
A piece of Angola
A piece of Cuba
A blues quartet
And America got the blues
The point is that it may get by you
For another 4 years
For another 8 years
You stuck
Playing 2nd fiddle in a blues quartet
Got the blues looking for the first principle
Which was justice
It's a blues year for justice
It's a blues year for the San Quentin 6
Looking for justice
It's a blues year for Gary Tyler
Looking for justice
It's a blues year for Rev. Ben Chaves
Looking for justice
It's a blues year for Boston
Looking for justice
It's a blues year for baby's on buses
It's a blues year for mothers and fathers with babies on buses
It's a blues year for Boston
And it's a blues year all over this country
America has got the blues
And the blues is in the street looking for the 3 principles
Justice, liberty and equality
We would do well to join the blues looking for justice, liberty and equality
The blues is in the street
America has got the blues
Well, the first thing I want to say is: Mandate my ass!
Because it seems as though we've been convinced that 26% of the registered voters, not even 26% of the American people, but 26% of the registered voters form a mandate or a landslide. 21% voted for Skippy and 3, 4% voted for somebody else who might have been running.
But, oh yeah, I remember. In this year that we have now declared the year from Shogun to Reagan, I remember what I said about Reagan, I meant it. Acted like an actor. Hollyweird. Acted like a liberal. Acted like General Franco when he acted like governor of California, then he acted like a Republican. Then he acted like somebody was going to vote for him for president. And now we act like 26% of the registered voters is actually a mandate. We're all actors in this I suppose.
What has happened is that in the last 20 years, America has changed from a producer to a consumer. And all consumers know that when the producer names the tune, the consumer has got to dance. That's the way it is. We used to be a producer - very inflexible at that, and now we are consumers and, finding it difficult to understand. Natural resources and minerals will change your world. The Arabs used to be in the 3rd World. They have bought the 2nd World and put a firm down payment on the 1st one. Controlling your resources we'll control your world. This country has been surprised by the way the world looks now. They don't know if they want to be Matt Dillon or Bob Dylan. They don't know if they want to be diplomats or continue the same policy - of nuclear nightmare diplomacy. John Foster Dulles ain't nothing but the name of an airport now.
The idea concerns the fact that this country wants nostalgia. They want to go back as far as they can - even if it's only as far as last week. Not to face now or tomorrow, but to face backwards. And yesterday was the day of our cinema heroes riding to the rescue at the last possible moment. The day of the man in the white hat or the man on the white horse - or the man who always came to save America at the last moment - someone always came to save America at the last moment - especially in "B" movies. And when America found itself having a hard time facing the future, they looked for people like John Wayne. But since John Wayne was no longer available, they settled for Ronald Reagan and it has placed us in a situation that we can only look at -like a "B" movie.
Come with us back to those inglorious days when heroes weren't zeros. Before fair was square. When the cavalry came straight away and all-American men were like Hemingway to the days of the wondrous "B" movie. The producer underwritten by all the millionaires necessary will be Casper "The Defensive" Weinberger - no more animated choice is available. The director will be Attila the Haig, running around frantically declaring himself in control and in charge. The ultimate realization of the inmates taking over at the asylum. The screenplay will be adapted from the book called "Voodoo Economics" by George "Papa Doc" Bush. Music by the "Village People" the very military "Macho Man."
"Company!!!"
"Macho, macho man!"
"Two-three-four."
"He likes to be .. well, you get the point."
"Huuut! Your left! Your left! Your left, right, left, right, left, right
!"
A theme song for saber-rallying and selling wars door-to-door. Remember, we're looking for the closest thing we can find to John Wayne. Clichés abound like kangaroos - courtesy of some spaced out Marlin Perkins, a Reagan contemporary. Clichés like, "itchy trigger finger" and "tall in the saddle" and "riding off or on into the sunset." Clichés like, "Get off of my planet by sundown!" More so than clichés like, "he died with his boots on." Marine tough the man is. Bogart tough the man is. Cagney tough the man is. Hollywood tough the man is. Cheap steak tough. And Bonzo's substantial. The ultimate in synthetic selling: A Madison Avenue masterpiece - a miracle - a cotton-candy politician
Presto! Macho!
"Macho, macho man!"
Put your orders in America. And quick as Kodak your leaders duplicate with the accent being on the dupes - cause all of a sudden we have fallen prey to selective amnesia - remembering what we want to remember and forgetting what we choose to forget. All of a sudden, the man who called for a blood bath on our college campuses is supposed to be Dudley "God-damn" Do-Right?
"You go give them liberals hell Ronnie." That was the mandate to the new Captain Bligh on the new ship of fools. It was doubtlessly based on his chameleon performance of the past: as a Liberal Democrat. As the head of the Studio Actor's Guild, when other celluloid saviors were cringing in terror from McCarthy, Ron stood tall. It goes all the way back from Hollywood to hillbilly. From Liberal to libelous, from "Bonzo" to Birch idol, born again. Civil rights, women's rights, gay rights:
it's all wrong. Call in the cavalry to disrupt this perception of freedom gone wild. God damn it, first one wants freedom, then the whole damn world wants freedom.
Nostalgia, that's what we want
: the good ol' days, when we gave'em hell. When the buck stopped somewhere and you could still buy something with it. To a time when movies were in black and white, and so was everything else. Even if we go back to the campaign trail, before six-gun Ron shot off his face and developed hoof-in-mouth. Before the free press went down before full-court press, and were reluctant to review the menu because they knew the only thing available was...Crow.
Lon Chaney, our man of a thousand faces: no match for Ron. Doug Henning does the make-up; special effects from Grecian Formula 16 and Crazy Glue; transportation furnished by the David Rockefeller of Remote Control Company. Their slogan is, "Why wait for 1984? You can panic now...and avoid the rush."
So much for the good news
.
As Wall Street goes, so goes the nation. And here's a look at the closing numbers: racism's up, human rights are down, peace is shaky, war items are hot. The House claims all ties. Jobs are down, money is scarce, and common sense is at an all-time low on heavy trading. Movies were looking better than ever, and now no one is looking, because we're starring in a "B" movie. And we would rather had...John Wayne. We would rather had...John Wayne.
"You don't need to be in no hurry.
You ain't never really got to worry.
And you don't need to check on how you feel.
Just keep repeating that none of this is real.
And if you're sensing, that something's wrong,
Well just remember, that it won't be too long
Before the director cuts the scene. yea."
"This ain't really your life,
Ain't really your life,
Ain't really ain't nothing but a movie."
[Refrain repeated approximately 20 times]
"This ain't really your life,
Ain't really your life,
It's a sign of the ages
Markings on my mind
A Man at the crossroads
At odds with an angry sky
There can be no salvation
There can be no rest
Until all old customs
Are put to the test
The gods are all angry
You hear from the breeze
As night slams like a hammer
Yeah, and you drop to your knees
The questions can't be answered
You're always haunted by the past
The world's full of children
Who grew up too fast
Yeah, but where can you run
Since there ain't no world of your own
And you know that no one will ever miss you, yeah yeah yeah
When you're finally gone
So you cry like a baby, a baby
Or you go out and get high
But there ain't no peace on Earth, man
Well he loved plenty women from Canada to Mexico
They would to love to see him coming and hated when he had to go
A macho man before macho ever came to town
The only problem was not enough of him to go around
You know he had had more romances than L.A.'s got stars
He had had more romances than Detroit's got cars
He's a, a legend in his own mind and God's gift to women
On a day God wasn't giving up a thing
Well you hate to see him coming when you're grooving at your favorite bar
He's the death of the party and a self-proclaimed superstar
Got permanent Jones to assure you he's been everywhere
A show stopping name dropping answer to the ladies' prayers
To hear him telling he had more romances than doctors got bills
He had had more romances than Beverly got Hills
He's a, a legend in his own mind and God's gift to women
On a day God wasn't giving up a thing
You don't have to listen when he's rattling on, yeah
You don't have to listen, he's telling everybody else
You don't have to believe him, I don't think I'll ever believe him
Matter of fact he may well not believe himself
Well he loved plenty women from Canada to Mexico
And they loved to see him coming and hated when he had to go
A macho man before macho ever came to town
The only problem was not enough of him to go around
You know he had had more romances than airplanes got gauges
He had had more romances than phone books got pages
He's a, a legend in his own mind and God's gift to women
On a day God wasn't giving up a thing
He's a, a legend in his own mind and God's gift to women
On a day God wasn't giving up, wasn't giving up, wasn't giving up
He's a, a legend in his own mind and God's gift to women
