| Shhhh--A white face in a white crowd
|
| The day, it starts, and it gets harder just to stand out
|
| Someone everyone organically can hang with
|
| Or someone cynically manipulating language
|
| Whoever told you that we needed you to be this?
|
| We’ve all been sold a bill of goods if we believe it
|
| Another warning from the well of true believers--
|
| There will be mourning in America, and we say…
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| Hey! |
| Hey! |
| Hey!
|
| You summon ghosts we tried to bury in their white shrouds
|
| With burning cross and bloody crescent in the White House
|
| You come on something like the faces I remember--
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| 1980, Mississippi rising from the ash and embers
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| Never, now, can I imagine me forgiving you
|
| Never, now, can I imagine how to live with you
|
| Another warning from the lake of people bleeding--
|
| There will be mourning in America if you keep it up…
|
| Hey! |
| Hey! |
| Hey!
|
| Up from the sultry air of the South of a time gone by
|
| To your mercurial mouth
|
| And where the busses in Boston that have idled for years
|
| Ride the line to Orange County and the fare is the fears
|
| Of the long manipulated and the wilfully dumb
|
| You better watch what you ask for
|
| 'Cause someday, it might just come |