The fat king of gods, the breaker of bones
owns everything you see for endless miles
and talk of revolution has vanished under a stone
still the mystic sees the tremblin’ and smiles.
Liberty’s children build prison on prison
and try to rid us of violence with bombs
but anyone who goes where the wild wind blows
knows where we’d be without our loving moms.
I know that might sound too dainty, still I’d repeat it
for even the slightest truth shall never be defeated
and it’s a far cry at least from the daily deceit
that we play and we play like it’s stuck on repeat.
Peace has no leaders to play it’s cards
and peace may play it’s own leaders’ price
but it’s tomb will be empty as it flows from the bards
ringing true like the best tune of advice.
Slowly but surely the world revolves
and Grace will be her own resolve
and she will dance in every chance aloft
till all of the world’s problems are solved.
As the capitalist masturbates, dreaming of Rand
the philosopher wonders what he won’t be when he’s dead.
The artist asks God to flow from his hands
and the pacifist asks Hitler, “But, what if I said…?”
and the journalist keeps her day job waving like the sea,
like a parade of princesses down the middle of Main
and the one they locked up for feelin’ too free —
he’ll never stop laughing at those ridiculous chains.
From the war on this to the war on that
has spun the frayed fabric of our modern day blues —
born in a rental, pried from our neighbor,
our fears and our fights are labelled by hues.
But what for the child with the dream that comes,
that always comes to the innocent heart?
The one that says, “We’ve always done
that which you are about to start?”
Perhaps destiny’s too tedious for tongues wild as these
and freedom’s too mysterious when you’re down on your knees.
But what’s been the downfall of all proud societies?
who knows the words?
let’s sing it drunkenly please!!!