america

There’s seven people dead on a South Dakota farm

I was listenin’ to the postman, I was listenin’ to the rain

They’re selling postcards of the hanging

God said to Abraham, “Kill me a son”

Money doesn’t talk, it swears

Even the president of the United States sometimes must have to stand naked

I’m going back to New York City, I do believe I’ve had enough

The pump don’t work ’cause the vandals took the handles

The sun’s not yellow, it’s chicken

Rubin Carter was falsely tried

Lenny Bruce is dead but his ghost lives on and on

All around, my revolution has been sung, all around, my story’s been told

What’s a sweetheart like you doing in a dump like this?

Broken heads, broken bottles, broken bones

We live in a political world, love don’t have any place

In the cities of lonesome fear, there’s a wandering, a wandering soul

Power and greed and corruptible seed seem to be all that there is

I went into the city, I went looking for dignity

They say times are hard, if you don’t believe it you can keep it to yourself

High water risin’, the shacks are slidin’ down

Thunder on the mountain, rolling like a drum

The place I love best is a sweet memory, it’s a new path that we trod

All the early Roman kings in their sharkskin suits

Murder most foul