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DRAT BANNED AGAIN.....YOU DON'T APPRECIATE GOOD MUSIC?
THE GREAT MANDELLA (The Wheel of Life)
By Peter Yarrow
So I told him that he'd better shut his mouth
And do his job like a man.
And he answered "Listen, Father,
I will never kill another."
He thinks he's better
than his brother that died
What the hell does he think he's doing
To his father who brought him up right?
(Chorus)
Take your place on The Great Mandella
As it moves through your brief moment of time.
Win or lose now you must choose now
And if you lose you're only losing your life.
Tell the jailer not to bother
With his meal of bread and water today.
He is fasting 'til the killing's over
He's a martyr, he thinks he's a prophet.
But he's a coward, he's just playing a game
He can't do it, he can't change it
It's been going on for ten thousand years
(Chorus)
Tell the people they are safe now
Hunger stopped him, he lies still in his cell.
Death has gagged his accusations
We are free now, we can kill now,
We can hate now, now we can end the world
We're not guilty, he was crazy
And it's been going on for ten thousand years!
Take your place on The Great Mandella
As it moves through your brief moment of time.
Win or lose now you must choose now
And if you lose you've only wasted your life.
------------------------------------------------
LIVES IN THE BALANCE
By Jackson Brown
I've been waiting for something to happen
For a week or a month or a year
With the blood in the ink of the headlines
And the sound of the crowd in my ear
You might ask what it takes to remember
When you know that you've seen it before
Where a government lies to a people
And a country is drifting to war
And there's a shadow on the faces
Of the men who send the guns
To the wars that are fought in places
Where their business interest runs
On the radio talk shows and the T.V.
You hear one thing again and again
How the U.S.A. stands for freedom
And we come to the aid of a friend
But who are the ones that we call our friends--
These governments killing their own?
Or the people who finally can't take any more
And they pick up a gun or a brick or a stone
There are lives in the balance
There are people under fire
There are children at the cannons
And there is blood on the wire
There's a shadow on the faces
Of the men who fan the flames
Of the wars that are fought in places
Where we can't even say the names
They sell us the President the same way
They sell us our clothes and our cars
They sell us every thing from youth to religion
The same time they sell us our wars
I want to know who the men in the shadows are
I want to hear somebody asking them why
They can be counted on to tell us who our enemies are
But they're never the ones to fight or to die
And there are lives in the balance
There are people under fire
There are children at the cannons
And there is blood on the wire
--------------------
Call it Democracy
By Bruce Cockburn
padded with power here they come
international loan sharks backed by the guns
of market hungry military profiteers
whose word is a swamp and whose brow is smeared
with the blood of the poor
who rob life of its quality
who render rage a necessity
by turning countries into labour camps
modern slavers in drag as champions of freedom
sinister cynical instrument
who makes the gun into a sacrament --
the only response to the deification
of tyranny by so-called "developed" nations'
idolatry of ideology
north south east west
kill the best and buy the rest
it's just spend a buck to make a buck
you don't really give a flying fuck
about the people in misery
IMF dirty MF
takes away everything it can get
always making certain that there's one thing left
keep them on the hook with insupportable debt
see the paid-off local bottom feeders
passing themselves off as leaders
kiss the ladies shake hands with the fellows
open for business like a cheap bordello
and they call it democracy
and they call it democracy
and they call it democracy
and they call it democracy
see the loaded eyes of the children too
trying to make the best of it the way kids do
one day you're going to rise from your habitual feast
to find yourself staring down the throat of the beast
they call the revolution
IMF dirty MF
takes away everything it can get
always making certain that there's one thing left
keep them on the hook with insupportable debt
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UNIVERSAL SOLDIER
By Buffy Sainte-Marie
He's five feet two and he's six feet four
He fights with missiles and with spears
He's all of 31 and he's only 17
He's been a soldier for a thousand years
He's a Catholic, a Hindu, an athiest, a Jain,
a Buddhist and a Baptist and a Jew
and he knows he shouldn't kill
and he knows he always will
kill you for me my friend and me for you
And he's fighting for Canada,
he's fighting for France,
he's fighting for the USA,
and he's fighting for the Russians
and he's fighting for Japan,
and he thinks we'll put an end to war this way
And he's fighting for Democracy
and fighting for the Reds
He says it's for the peace of all
He's the one who must decide
who's to live and who's to die
and he never sees the writing on the walls
But without him how would Hitler have
condemned him at Dachau
Without him Caesar would have stood alone
He's the one who gives his body
as a weapon to a war
and without him all this killing can't go on
He's the universal soldier and he
really is to blame
His orders come from far away no more
They come from him, and you, and me
and brothers can't you see
this is not the way we put an end to war.
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Lucky Man
By Emerson, Lake and Palmer
He had white horses and ladies by the score
All dressed in satin and waiting by the door
{Refrain}
Oooh, what a lucky man he was
Oooh, what a lucky man he was
White lace and feathers, they made up his bed
A gold covered mattress on which he was laid
{Refrain}
Aaaah
He went to fight wars for his country and his king
Of his honor and his glory the people would sing
{Refrain}
A bullet had found him, his blood ran as he cried
No money could save him, so he laid down and he died
{Refrain}
Aaaah
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One Tin Soldier
By Coven
Listen children to a story
That was written long ago
'Bout a kingdom on a mountain
And the valley folk below
On the mountain was a treasure
Buried deep beneath a stone
And the valley people swore they'd
Have it for their very own
{Refrain}
Go ahead and hate your neighbor
Go ahead and cheat a friend
Do it in the name of heaven
You can justify it in the end
There won't be any trumpets blowing
Come the judgment day
On the bloody morning after
One tin soldier rides away
So the people of the valley
Sent a message up the hill
Asking for the buried treasure
Tons of gold for which they'd kill
Came an answer from the kingdom
With our brothers we will share
All the secrets of the mountain
All the riches buried there
{Refrain}
Now the valley cried in anger
Mount your horses draw your sword
And they killed the mountain people
So they got their just reward
Now they stood beside the treasure
On the mountsin dark and red
Turned the stone and looked beneath it
Peace on earth was all it said
{Refrain}
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Sam Stone
By John Prine
sam stone came home to his wife and family
after serving in the conflict overseas
and the time that he served had shattered all his nerve
and left a little shrapnel in his knee
but the morphine eased the pain
and the grass grew round his brain
and gave him all the confidence he lacked
with a purple heart and a monkey on his back
(chorus)
there's a hole in daddy's arm where all the money goes
jesus christ died for nothing i suppose
little pictures have big ears
don't stop to count the years
sweet songs never last too long on broken radios
sam stone's welcome home didn't last too long
he went to work when he'd spent his last dime
and sammy took to stealin' when he got that empty feelin'
for a hundred dollar habit without overtime
and the gold rolled through his veins
like a thousand railroad trains
and eased his mind in the hours that he chose
while the kids ran around wearing other peoples clothes
(chorus)
sam stone was alone when he popped his last balloon
climbing walls while sitting in a chair
and they played his last request while the room smelled just like death
with an overdose hovering in the air
cause life had lost it's fun and there was nothing to be done
but trade his house that he bought on the g. i. bill
for a flag-draped casket on a local hero's hill
(chorus)
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