Word Game Lyrics - Bananafish Gardens, Ny - Manassas

Would you knock a man down if you don't like the cut of his clothes 

Could you put a man away if you don't want to hear what he knows 

Well it's happening right here people dying of fear by the droves 

And I know most of you 

Either don't believe it's true, 

Or else you don't know what to do 

Or maybe I'm singing about you, 

Who knows. 

It's incredibly sick, you can feel it, as across the land it flows 

Prejudice is slick when it's a word game, it festers and grows, 

Move along quick, it furthers one to have somewhere to go 

You can feel it as it's rumblin' 

Let emotions keep a tumblin' 

Then as cities start to crumblin' 

Mostly empty bellies grumblin' 

Here we go 

People see somebody different fear is the first reaction shown 

Then they think they've got him licked the barbaric hunt begins and they move in slow 

A human spirit is devoured the remains left to carrion crow 

I was told that life is change 

And yet history remains, 

Does it always stay the same 

Do we shrug it off and say 

Only God knows 

By and by, somebody usually goes down to the ghetto 

Try and help but they don't know why folks treat them cold 

And the rich keep getting richer and the rest of us just keep getting old. 

You see one must have a mission 

In order to be a good Christian 

If you don't you will be missing 

High Mass or the evening show 

And the well fed masters reap the harvests of the polluted seeds they've sown, 

Smug and self-righteous they bitch about people they owe, 

And you can't prove them wrong, they're so God damn sure they know 

I have seen these things with my very own eyes and defended my battered soul, 

It must be too tough to die, 

American propaganda, South African lies 

Will not force me to take up arms, that's my enemies' pride, 

Ands I won't fight by his rules that's foolishness besides, 

His ignorance is gonna do him in and nobody's gonna cry, 

Because his children they are growing up and plainly tired of putting up 

With bigots and their silver cups 

They're fed up, they might throw up 

On you