For Mr D

Ophelia, now her they burned with her bra;
Poker face and keep away from issues of race
The main man he earn a prize on hope, how else to save face?

Blood rules and the sweet white devil sits on the throne
Smiling sweetly, equality is his wedding vow
The mind is without fear and the heads they have been shorn
Tagore and Tolstoy congratulate the Mahatma
The slums they are a-pimpin
Poverty finally has a use

The green horns and the hawks all carving up the turkey,
Ringing in a Christmas on the foghorns of doom
Peddling a paranoia thats never to loom

The titanic sank and Manhattan is now sub prime
They lost their jobs and their Isle of delight
But the jets and the chalets are no crime
The weapons they were in plain sight
The war it is fought on another’s dime
The acts have all gone home and the bands all rhyme

I got your letter today
about the time the tawdry protector got out of jail
for raping a lil girl he made bail

Federico Lorca they hanged; Che shot in the back
Kesey and the pranksters mottled on Guantanamo Bay
Woodstock peddles chicken soup and Bobby is born again
Baby boomers and Martin Luther now no longer in pain
The pope smiles on the corpses of the vain
Ginsberg and Steinbeck applaud while standing frail

I saw it from the window and between my legs my long tail
While I save my precious hide and dust off the pride
To join the conformist tide