No one knows who gave the orders, no one asks about the crime. No one looks behind the curtain and no one questions why. The only time we've got is right about now.
Here we go. . For the fired auto workers who were twisted, tricked and robbed. To the peasant in Guatemala in a sweatshop got your job. And she can't feed her family on the pennies that she makes.
Well, I climbed the seven summits and I swam the seven seas. But the road I must travel, it's end I cannot see. Well, I fought in the jungles and I fought in the streets.
On the side of the dirt road, an old Chevy wreck. I climbed through the window, I sat in the back. I gathered my thoughts with my head in my hands. My next of kin, my list of demands.
Never listened to the pain. Never listened to fortune or fame. Never listened to eagle or dove. Never listened to anger or love. But I listen to the dark clouds above.
On the streets of New York the cabs don't stop. On the street where I live they called the cops. Found a noose in my garage, now how 'bout that. So tonight I'm in the bushes with a baseball bat.
This one's for the shoeshine boy and the farmer in debt. Each string is barbed wire, each chord is a threat. This blues guy I met that never had a hit.
There's a man homeless and hungry. There's a wind that's hard and biting. There's a song in need of singing. There's a fuse in need of light. . And it's no secret, the day is coming.
It's in the grain of the wood. It's in the needle's rust. It's in the eagle's claw. It's in the eyes you trust. . It's in the jackal's dreams. It's in the sleet and the hail.
One, two, three. . Now you might have heard different. But I know it's a fact. That Jesus, Mary, Joseph. And the Apostle Paul were black. . Ten letters I am writing.
It started in basements. And it started in sheds. It started in backyards. And was hidden under beds. . I turned on the TV. Don't believe a word they say.