Kids play
cowboys and Indians
grow into men and women play
Muslims and Christians
hooked on Red Man
chewing tobacco
and American Spirit
cigarettes
and t-shirt tans
fade to skin cancer
for white farmers
fresh out of the army
no sun
screen
calls from Bollywood
Indians
peace pipe smoking
dancing on fire
water
drown
old blues musicians
run aground fleeing
Big Easy
sleezy politicians
can’t feel the music
never had the
blues
haven’t got a
clue
about
right and wrong
write
and
long after we’re gone
they’ll sing the same old
songs
from Mississippi
to Chicago
all the way down to New Orleans
still they sing
sea to shining
see massive inequality
singing the blues
in Ferguson, Missouri
in Oakland,
in Baltimore,
and in NYC
and in America today
Uncle Sam’s hands
still drip
red
blood
and you can only breathe
if you’re
white
and countless
black
people
still have the
blues
still treated like property
still shot like
dogs in the street
shots ring out and
cops choke-holding
court
murdering justice
in the summer heat
and cold of winter
black faces turn
blue
can’t breathe
suffocated like Iraqis
got the
blues
turn off the news
channels don’t matter
white
hands still
red
blood
from indigenous holocaust
red
blood
from backs of slaves
in shallow graves
stripped of humanity
no different
than the eighteen-fifties
brainwash kids
to pledge blind faith
and allegiance
we kill without reason
kill for America
the beauty-less
beast
of a nation
from administration
to administration
Kennedy,
Clinton,
Bush
& Obama
no different than
George Washington
all cloaked in Caesars’ clothes
open
concentration camps
for American citizens
of Japanese descent
do the Ku Klux
Can-Can
dance for Uncle Sam
we’re his nephews
and nieces
selling our souls now
just to pay rent
on stolen land
no,
we won’t stand
for your anthem
we got the
red,
white
& blues
and with nothing left
we got nothing to lose
all-in
pockets full of
change
is more than
a campaign slogan
believe in
ourselves
we are millions
strong
and our songs
are no longer
just the
blues
they are battle hymns
we beat war drums
still
but we come in peace
so don’t bother calling
the police
there’s nothing they can do
we no longer fear you
and we’re through
pledging our allegiance
to a blood drenched rag
you can kill most of us
but you’ll run out
of body bags
before we give up
we’ll keep turning
other cheeks
like Dr. King
and that bastard carpenter
from Nazareth
we’ll only raise our fists
in solidarity
and fight with our minds
and spirits
until the end
of time,
fight with
art and music,
war drums
so loud they’ll hear it
on Capitol Hill,
they can spill our blood
but generation
after generation
we’ll take to the streets
sing justice
to the beat of
our own drums
but for now
we sing the
red,
white,
& blues…
Muslims,
Jews,
and Christians
all wishing now
that Abraham was an atheist
and Columbus had been aborted,
things haven’t been
sorted out
for so long
it’s all
long been
so wrong
from Plymouth
to Wounded Knee
to Korea
to Vietnam
to Hawaii
and Bikini Atoll,
it has all taken its toll
but still they call
roll
and kids run
out of the projects
and off farms
and we never meant anybody
harm,
we had good intentions
but that’s not enough
as Uncle Sam starts
Vietnam
after Vietnam
after Vietnam…
and if you dare
sound the alarm
they’ll silence you
one way
or another,
lock you up,
or pickle you with pills
and distill you
with whiskey and Budweiser,
drive you to
the edge
then play taps
and hand your mom a flag
to dry her tears,
don’t talk about
what you
see
no evil
hear no
cries for help
for the helpless
dress right
dress you down
now you’re sounding
blue
looking
white
like you seen a ghost,
lets raise a toast
to the father,
son,
and daughter
melting drunk
onto VFW barstools
like fish
in toxic water,
regretting they survived,
ready to die
but still they go on
singing the blues
different versions
of an age old tune
drunk and out of key
more and more depressed
each day
seeing
the younger
and younger
kids
melting drunk
onto the barstools
singing the
red,
white,
& blues…
I got the
red,
white,
& blues…
Turn off the news.
I got the
red,
white,
& blues.
My hands are red,
my flag is white,
I got the blues.
The bank took my house,
my dog ran away,
but even if I were gay
I could kill Muslims now too…
Three-cheers for equality
from sea to shining sea
we’ve got
the illusion that we’re free
an illusion of equality,
but no justice
the world over,
and no peace,
what would Dr. King think?
I heard what he said
at Riverside
one year to the day he died…
No, it ain’t all
peaches and cream,
we’re in a losing battle
against a machine…
so, I got the blues.
I got the
American empire
crushed my hopes
and dreams,
killed my spirit
and stole my soul,
so now I got to go,
Red,
White,
& Blues.
