I Hate The White Man Lyrics - Singles - Roy Harper

Far across the ocean 

In the land of look and see 

There once was a time 

For you and me 

Where the winds blow sweetly 

And the easy seas flow still 

And where the barefoot dream of life 

Can laugh and cry it's fill 

Where slot machine confusion 

And the plastic universe 

Are objects of amusement 

In the fiction of their curse 

And where the crazy whiteman 

And his teargas happiness 

Lies dead and long since buried 

By his own fantastic mess 

For I hate the whiteman 

And his plastic excuse 

For I hate the whiteman 

And the man who turned him loose... 

And the reins of coloured thunder 

Of the stallion of the dawn 

Ride the coalfire morning 

On the beach where all is born 

Where the emperor of meaning 

Is burning up his fort 

And sits to warm his toes around 

A fire made up of useless thoughts 

And when the children tempt him 

With the riddles of their trance 

He flings the flames of solstice 

Casting laughs into their dance 

And where the crazy whiteman 

In the desert of his bones 

Lies as bleached as the paradise 

He likes to think he owns 

And I hate the whiteman 

In his evergreen excuse 

Oh I hate the whiteman 

And the man who turned him loose... 

And far across the reaches 

Of the drifting yellow sands 

The living carpet wilderness 

Forever joins it's hands 

With heaven hell's attainment 

In a surging crest of fire 

Where more than all is thrown upon 

The ever lasting pyre 

And through the countless canticles 

Of Jason's charcoal fleece 

Are sung the songs of nothing 

In the timeless masterpiece 

And there stood in the middle 

Guess who? 

It's the everlasting burst 

Built by god's very own whiteman 

As he tries to rule the dust 

And I hate the whiteman 

In his doctrinaire refuse 

Oh I hate the whiteman 

And the man who turned you all loose... 

And the bowels of his city 

Have been locked into a safe 

Where the spew stains on the sidewalks 

Are defenders of his faith 

While back inside his kitchen 

The bowler hatted, long haired saint 

Cleans with soap and water 

But it's really just white paint 

While his gorgon headed scandal sheet 

Presents its daily bite 

To give their righteous news-believers 

Drugs to keep them white 

While outside in the whitewash 

Where the guns are always, always right 

A shooting star has summoned 

Deaths dark angel from its night 

And I hate the whiteman 

And his evergreen excuse 

Oh I hate the whiteman 

And the man who turned you all loose 

And the man who turned him loose...