Gil Scott-Heron

He was groovin'
And that was when he coulda sworn
The room was movin'
But that was only in his mind
He was sailin'
He never really seemed to notice
Vision failin'
'cause that was all part of the high
Sweat was pourin'
He couldn't take it
The room was exploding
He might not make it.

Angel DustPlease, children would you listen.
Angel DustJust ain't where it's at.
Angel DustYou won't remember what you're
Missin', but down some dead end streets
There ain't no turnin' back.

They were standin'
Ev'rybody in a circle,
The whole family
Listening to the preacher's words
Sis was cryin'
She alone held all the secrets
'bout his dyin'
Tears fallin' to earth
Maybe her fault
He was so trusting
God only knew why
They was dustin'!

Angel DustPlease children would you listen.
Angel DustJust ain't where it's at.
Angel DustYou won't remember what you're
Missin', but down some dead end streets
There ain't no turnin' back.

Well, the first thing I want to say isMandate my ass!

Because it seems as though we've been convinced that 26% of the registered voters, not even 26% of the American people, but 26% of the registered voters form a mandate or a landslide. 21% voted for Skippy and 3, 4% voted for somebody else who might have been running.

But, oh yeah, I remember. In this year that we have now declared the year from Shogun to Reagan, I remember what I said about Reaganmeant it. Acted like an actorHollyweird. Acted like a liberal. Acted like General Franco when he acted like governor of California, then he acted like a republican. Then he acted like somebody was going to vote for him for president. And now we act like 26% of the registered voters is actually a mandate. We're all actors in this I suppose.

What has happened is that in the last 20 years, America has changed from a producer to a consumer. And all consumers know that when the producer names the tunethe consumer has got to dance. That's the way it is. We used to be a producer very inflexible at that, and now we are consumers and, finding it difficult to understand. Natural resources and minerals will change your world. The Arabs used to be in the 3rd World. They have bought the 2nd World and put a firm down payment on the 1st one. Controlling your resources we'll control your world. This country has been surprised by the way the world looks now. They don't know if they want to be Matt Dillon or Bob Dylan. They don't know if they want to be diplomats or continue the same policy - of nuclear nightmare diplomacy. John Foster Dulles ain't nothing but the name of an airport now.

The idea concerns the fact that this country wants nostalgia. They want to go back as far as they can even if it's only as far as last week. Not to face now or tomorrow, but to face backwards. And yesterday was the day of our cinema heroes riding to the rescue at the last possible moment. The day of the man in the white hat or the man on the white horse - or the man who always came to save America at the last moment someone always came to save America at the last moment especially in B movies. And when America found itself having a hard time facing the future, they looked for people like John Wayne. But since John Wayne was no longer available, they settled for Ronald Reagan and it has placed us in a situation that we can only look at like a B movie.

Come with us back to those inglorious days when heroes weren't zeros. Before fair was square. When the cavalry came straight away and all-American men were like Hemingway to the days of the wondrous B movie. The producer underwritten by all the millionaires necessary will be Casper The Defensive Weinberger no more animated choice is available. The director will be Attila the Haig, running around frantically declaring himself in control and in charge. The ultimate realization of the inmates taking over at the asylum. The screenplay will be adapted from the book called Voodoo Economics by George Papa Doc Bush. Music by the Village People the very military "Macho Man."

Company!!!
Macho, macho man!
Two-three-four.
He likes to be well, you get the point.
Huuut! Your left! Your left! Your leftright, left, right, left, right!

A theme song for saber-rallying and selling wars door-to-door. Remember, we're looking for the closest thing we can find to John Wayne. Clichs abound like kangaroos courtesy of some spaced out Marlin Perkins, a Reagan contemporary. Clichs like, itchy trigger finger and tall in the saddle and riding off or on into the sunset. Clichs like, Get off of my planet by sundown! More so than clichs like, he died with his boots on. Marine tough the man is. Bogart tough the man is. Cagney tough the man is. Hollywood tough the man is. Cheap stick tough. And Bonzo's substantial. The ultimate in synthetic selling: A Madison Avenue masterpiece a miracle a cotton-candy politicianPresto! Macho!

Macho, macho man!

Put your orders in America. And quick as Kodak your leaders duplicate with the accent being on the nukes - cause all of a sudden we have fallen prey to selective amnesia - remembering what we want to remember and forgetting what we choose to forget. All of a sudden, the man who called for a blood bath on our college campuses is supposed to be Dudley God-damn Do-Right?

You go give them liberals hell Ronnie. That was the mandate. To the new Captain Bly on the new ship of fools. It was doubtlessly based on his chameleon performance of the past - as a liberal democrat as the head of the Studio Actor's Guild. When other celluloid saviors were cringing in terror from McCarthy Ron stood tall. It goes all the way back from Hollywood to hillbilly. From liberal to libelous, from Bonzo to Birch idolborn again. Civil rights, women's rights, gay rightsit's all wrong. Call in the cavalry to disrupt this perception of freedom gone wild. God damn itfirst one wants freedom, then the whole damn world wants freedom.

Nostalgia, that's what we wantthe good ol' dayswhen we gave'em hell. When the buck stopped somewhere and you could still buy something with it. To a time when movies were in black and white and so was everything else. Even if we go back to the campaign trail, before six-gun Ron shot off his face and developed hoof-in-mouth. Before the free press went down before full-court press. And were reluctant to review the menu because they knew the only thing available was Crow.

Lon Chaney, our man of a thousand faces - no match for Ron. Doug Henning does the make-up - special effects from Grecian Formula 16 and Crazy Glue. Transportation furnished by the David Rockefeller of Remote Control Company. Their slogan is, Why wait for 1984? You can panic now...and avoid the rush.

So much for the good news

As Wall Street goes, so goes the nation. And here's a look at the closing numbers racism's up, human rights are down, peace is shaky, war items are hot - the House claims all ties. Jobs are down, money is scarce and common sense is at an all-time low on heavy trading. Movies were looking better than ever and now no one is looking because, we're starring in a B movie. And we would rather had John Waynewe would rather had John Wayne.

"You don't need to be in no hurry.
You ain't never really got to worry.
And you don't need to check on how you feel.
Just keep repeating that none of this is real.
And if you're sensing, that something's wrong,
Well just remember, that it won't be too long
Before the director cuts the sceneyea."

This ain't really your life,
Ain't really your life,
Ain't really ain't nothing but a movie.

[Refrain repeated about 25 times or more in an apocalyptic crescendo with a military cadence.]

This ain't really your life,
Ain't really your life,
Ain't really ain't nothing but a movie.

Brother Man nowadays living in the ghetto
Where the danger's sure enough real
Well when he's out late at night
And if he's got his head on right
Well, I lay you 9 to 5 he's walking with steal.

Brother Man says he's 'fraid of gangsters
Messing with people just for fun
He don't want to be next
He got a family to protect
So just last week he bought himself a gun.

[Chorus]
Everybody got a pistol, everybody got a 45
And the philosophy seem to be
At least as near as I can see
When other folks give up theirs, I'll give up mine.

This is a violent civilization
If civilization's where I am
Every channel that I stop on
Got a different kind of cop on
Killing them by the million for Uncle Sam

Saturday night just ain't that special
Yeah, I got the constitution on the run
'Cause even though we've got the right
To defend our home, to defend our life
Got to understand to get it in hand about the guns

[Chorus]

Saturday night just ain't that special
Freedom to be afraid is all you want
Yes if you don't want to be next
You've got a family to protect
9 out of 10, you've got a friend, you've got a gun.

[Chorus]

Everybody got a pistol, this mosty be the N-R-A
Yeah 'cause when it's time to shine up
You know damn well they're gonna line up
Everybody

And the philosophy seem to be
At least as near as I can see
When other folks give up theirs, I'll give up mine

If you're driving through the country on a lazy afternoon
Or you're watching your children playin' after school
They seem to be so unaware of I know I know
The things that they soon have to take care of

We got to do something yeah to save the children
Soon it will be their test to try and save the world
Right now they seem to play such a small part of
The things that they soon be right at the heart of


My little Tommy he said he wants to be a fireman
And little Mary she said she got to teach at school
If we know or we say we know about the problems ohohoh
Why can't we do something to try and solve them

We got to do something yeah to save the children
Soon it will be their test to try and save the world
We got to do something yeah to save the children
To save the children
To save the children

Brother man nowadays livin' in the ghetto
Where the dangers sure enough real.
Well when he's out late at night,
and if he's got his head on right,
Well, I lay you 9 to 5 he's walking with steel.

Brother Man says he's 'fraid of gangsters
Messing with people just for fun
He don't want to be next.
He got a family to protect.
So just last week he bought himself a gun.

Everybody got a pistol, everybody got a .45
And the philosophy seem to be,
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up theirs, I'll give up mine.

This is a violent civilization;
If civilization's where I am.
Every channel that I stop on
Got a different kind of cop on
Killing them by the million for Uncle Sam.

Saturday night just ain't that special.
Yeah, I got the constitution on the run.
'Cause even though we've got the right
To defend our home, to defend our life,
Got to understand to get it in hand about the guns.

Everybody's got a pistol. Everybody got a .45.
The philosophy seems to be,
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up, I, I'll give up...

Saturday night just ain't that special.
Freedom to be afraid is all you want.
Yes if you don't want to be next.
You've got a family to protect.
9 out of 10, you've got a friend, you've got a gun.

Everybody got a pistol. Everybody got a .45.
And the philosophy seems to be,
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up theirs, I'll give up mine.

Everybody got a pistol, this mosty be the NRA
Yeah 'cause when it's time to line up
You know damn well they're gonna shine up
Everybody...

And the philosophy seem to be
At least as near as I can see,
When other folks give up theirs, I'll give up mine.

You will not be able to stay home, brother.
You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out.
You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and
skip out for beer during commercials,
Because the revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox
In 4 parts without commercial interruptions.
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Mendel Rivers to eat
hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary.

The revolution will not be televised.
The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia.
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal.
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs.
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner, the revolution will not be televised, Brother.

There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mays
pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run,
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance.
NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32
on reports from 29 districts.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay.
There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being
run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process.
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a Red, Black and
Green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
For just the right occasion.

Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so god damned relevant, and
women will not care if Dick finally screwed
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because Black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day.
The revolution will not be televised.

There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose.
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb or
Francis Scott Key, nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash or Englebert Humperdink.
The revolution will not be televised.

The revolution will not be right back
after a message about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people.
You will not have to worry about a dove in your
bedroom, a tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl.
The revolution will not go better with Coke.
The revolution will not fight the germs that may cause bad breath.
The revolution will put you in the driver's seat.

The revolution will not be televised, will not be televised,
will not be televised, will not be televised.
The revolution will be no re-run brothers;
The revolution will be live.

The economy is in an uproar
The whole damn countries is in the red
Taxi fares are going up
You say, "Billy Green is dead"?
The government can't decide on bussin'
or at least thats what they said

Yea I heard you, when you told me
You said, "Billy Green was dead"
But let me tell you bout these hot-pants that this big legged sister wore
when i partied with the alphas
what?
Billy took an overdose
well now junkies will be junkies
but did you see Gunsmoke last night?
man they had themselves a shootout and folks was dyin' left and right
At the end when Matt was cornerd i had damn near give up hope

What you? Why you keep on interrupting me? you say, My son is taking dope?
Call the law and call the doctor!
What you mean i shouldn't scream?
My only son is taking dope?
Should i sit here like I'm pleased?

Is that familiar anybody?

Check out whats inside your head
Because it never seems to matter
when it's Billy Green who's dead

The economy is in an uproar
The whole damn countries is in the red
Taxi fares are going up
You say, "Billy Green is dead"?
The government can't decide on bussin'
or at least thats what they said

Yea I heard you, when you told me
You said, "Billy Green was dead"
But let me tell you bout these hot-pants that this big legged sister wore
when i partied with the alphas
what?
Billy took an overdose
well now junkies will be junkies
but did you see Gunsmoke last night?
man they had themselves a shootout and folks was dyin' left and right
At the end when Matt was cornerd i had damn near give up hope

What you? Why you keep on interrupting me? you say, My son is taking dope?
Call the law and call the doctor!
What you mean i shouldn't scream?
My only son is taking dope?
Should i sit here like I'm pleased?

Is that familiar anybody?

Check out whats inside your head
Because it never seems to matter
when it's Billy Green who's dead

Find a shadow cast by rainbows
There you’ll meet the sage.
Feeding rabbits bits of lettuce or cleaning out the cage.
He can give you more direction than you’ve ever known.
Show you your bronzed baby shoes
Now, my how you have grown!
Ain’t it nice to fly? You’re waving as soft clouds go by,
But Peace won’t be still of its own free will.
Say you want to go exploring; you got to find some truth.
Can’t stand one more day of Christians shouting down at you.
You say you don’t dig politics that never was your bag.
People who could run for office wave their private flag.
Ain’t it nice to fly? You’re waving as soft clouds go by,
But peace won’t be still of its own free will
Ain’t it nice to fly? You’re waving as soft clouds go by,
But peace won’t be still of its own free will.

Find a shadow cast by rainbows
There you’ll meet the sage.
Feeding rabbits bits of lettuce or cleaning out the cage.
He can give you more direction than you’ve ever known.
Show you your bronzed baby shoes
Now, my how you have grown!
Ain’t it nice to fly? You’re waving as soft clouds go by,
But Peace won’t be still of its own free will.
Say you want to go exploring; you got to find some truth.
Can’t stand one more day of Christians shouting down at you.
You say you don’t dig politics that never was your bag.
People who could run for office wave their private flag.
Ain’t it nice to fly? You’re waving as soft clouds go by,
But peace won’t be still of its own free will
Ain’t it nice to fly? You’re waving as soft clouds go by,
But peace won’t be still of its own free will.

Find a shadow cast by rainbows
There you’ll meet the sage.
Feeding rabbits bits of lettuce or cleaning out the cage.
He can give you more direction than you’ve ever known.
Show you your bronzed baby shoes
Now, my how you have grown!
Ain’t it nice to fly? You’re waving as soft clouds go by,
But Peace won’t be still of its own free will.
Say you want to go exploring; you got to find some truth.
Can’t stand one more day of Christians shouting down at you.
You say you don’t dig politics that never was your bag.
People who could run for office wave their private flag.
Ain’t it nice to fly? You’re waving as soft clouds go by,
But peace won’t be still of its own free will
Ain’t it nice to fly? You’re waving as soft clouds go by,
But peace won’t be still of its own free will.

You explained it to me I must admit
But just for the record you were talkin' shit
Y'all rap about no knock bein' legislated
For the people you've always hated
In this hell hole you, we, call home

No knock, the man will say
To keep that man from beating his wife
No knock, the man will say
To protect people from themselves

No knockin', head-rockin', inter-shockin'
Shootin', cussin', killin', cryin', lyin'
And bein' white
No knock

No knocked on my brother Fred Hampton
Bullet holes all over the place
No knocked on my brother Michael Harris
And jammed a shotgun against his skull

For my protection?
Who's gonna protect me from you?
The likes of you?
The nerve of you?
Your tomato face deadpan
Your dead hands ending another freedom fan

No knockin', head rockin', inter-shockin'
Shootin', cussin', killin', cryin', lyin'
And bein' white

But if you're wise, no knocker
You'll tell your no-knockin' lackeys
Ha!
No knock on my brother's head
No knock on my sister's head
No knock on my brother's head
No knock on my sister's head

And double lock your door
Because soon someone may be no-knockin'
Ha, ha!
For you

(No knock: To be slipped into John Mitchell's suggestion box.)

You explained it to me I must admit
But just for the record you were talkin' shit
Y'all rap about no knock bein' legislated
For the people you've always hated
In this hell hole you, we, call home

No knock, the man will say
To keep that man from beating his wife
No knock, the man will say
To protect people from themselves

No knockin', head-rockin', inter-shockin'
Shootin', cussin', killin', cryin', lyin'
And bein' white
No knock

No knocked on my brother Fred Hampton
Bullet holes all over the place
No knocked on my brother Michael Harris
And jammed a shotgun against his skull

For my protection?
Who's gonna protect me from you?
The likes of you?
The nerve of you?
Your tomato face deadpan
Your dead hands ending another freedom fan

No knockin', head rockin', inter-shockin'
Shootin', cussin', killin', cryin', lyin'
And bein' white

But if you're wise, no knocker
You'll tell your no-knockin' lackeys
Ha!
No knock on my brother's head
No knock on my sister's head
No knock on my brother's head
No knock on my sister's head

And double lock your door
Because soon someone may be no-knockin'
Ha, ha!
For you

(No knock: To be slipped into John Mitchell's suggestion box.)

I was doin' it when I was a colored boy of eight or nine or ten
I had never heard of Sigmund Freud but hell I was doin' it then
I was doin' it in my teenaged years when I was running the ghetto streets
Now I had never seen me no ink blot test but it still felt good to me
I was doin' it when I arrived in college searching for my degree
But Lord knows a degree wasn't all I got and that's the way it's supposed to be
I hope that when I have kids of my own they really don't get shook
When I tell them that there are things they've got to learn that can't be found in books.

Speed on by, don't seem to have the time
What about this life?
What about this life?
Can I call mine?

Issues in the paper (somehow I'm not concerned)
Seems that I've been here before
Here before, but I never learn

Children
Slowly turn

Time stay gone, we never saw it go
Now what do we have?
Now what do we have, that we may show?
Friends you swore you'd never lose (melted from your style)
Down the tunnels of your youth, of your youth,
Now you never smile
Children
Learn to smile

Speed on by, don't seem to have the time
What about this life?
What about this life?
Can I call mine?

Issues in the paper (somehow I'm not concerned)
Seems that I've been here before
Here before, but I never learn

Children
Slowly turn

Time stay gone, we never saw it go
Now what do we have?
Now what do we have, that we may show?
Friends you swore you'd never lose (melted from your style)
Down the tunnels of your youth, of your youth,
Now you never smile
Children
Learn to smile

A junkie walking through the twilight
I'm on my way home
I left three days ago, but no one seems to know I'm gone
Home is where the hatred is
Home is filled with pain and it,
Might not be such a bad idea if I never, never went home again

Stand as far away from me as you can and ask me why
Hang on to your rosary beads
Close your eyes to watch me die
You keep saying, kick it, quit it, kick it, quit it
God, but did you ever try
To turn your sick soul inside out
So that the world, so that the world
Can watch you die

Home is where I live inside my white powder dreams
Home was once an empty vacuum that's filled now with my silent screams
Home is where the needle marks
Try to heal my broken heart
And it might not be such a bad idea if I never, if I never went home again
Home again
Home again
Home again
Kick it, quit it
Kick it, quit it
Kick it, quit it
Kick it, can't go home again

If you're driving through the country on a lazy afternoon
Or you're watching your children playin' after school
They seem to be so unaware of I know I know
The things that they soon have to take care of

We got to do something yeah to save the children
Soon it will be their test to try and save the world
Right now they seem to play such a small part of
The things that they soon be right at the heart of


My little Tommy he said he wants to be a fireman
And little Mary she said she got to teach at school
If we know or we say we know about the problems ohohoh
Why can't we do something to try and solve them

We got to do something yeah to save the children
Soon it will be their test to try and save the world
We got to do something yeah to save the children
To save the children
To save the children

You will not be able to stay home brother
you will not be able to plug in, turn on and drop out
you will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip
skip out for beer during commercials
Because the revolution will not be televised
The revolution will not be televised
the revolution will not be brought to you by xerox
in 4 parts without commercial interruption
The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon
blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John
Mitchell, General Abrams and Spiro Agnew to eat
hog moss confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary
The revolution will not be televised
The revolution will not be brought to you by the
Schaefer Award Theatre and will not star Natalie
Wood and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia
The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal
The revolution will not get rid of the nubs
The revolution will not make you look five pounds
thinner because The revolution will not be televised brother
There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mays
pushing that cart down the block on the
dead run
or trying to slide that color television into a stolen
ambulance
NBC will not be able to predict the winner at 8:32
or the count from 29 districts
The revolution will not be televised
There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down
brothers in the instant replay
There will be no pictures of young being
run out of Harlem a rail with a brand new process
There will be no slow motion or still life of Roy
Wilkens strolling through Watts in a red, black and
green liberation jumpsuit that he had been saving
for just the right occasion
Green Acres, The Beverly Hillbillies and Hooterville
Junction will no longer be so damned relevant and
women will not care of Dick finally gets down with
Jane on Search for Tomorrow because black people
will be in the street looking for a brighter day
The revolution will not be televised
there will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock
news and no pictures of hairy armed women
liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose
The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb,
Francis Scott Key nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom
Jones, Johnny Cash, Engelbert Humperdinck of The
Rare Earth
The revolution will not be televised
The revolution will not be right back after a message
about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people
You will not have to worry about a germ in your
bedroom, the tiger in your tank, or the giant in you
toilet bowl
The revolution will not go better with Coke
The revolution will not fight germs that can cause
bad breath
The revolution WILL put you in the driver's
seat
The revolution will not be televised, will no be televised
will not be televised
The revolution will be no re-run brothers
The revolution will be live--
27569

We deal in too many externals, brother.
Always afros, handshakes, and dashikis.

Never can a man build a working structure for black capitalism.
Always does the man read Mao or Fanon.

I think I know you would-be black revolutionaries too well.
Standing on a box on a corner, talking about blowing the white boy away.
That's not where it's at, yet, brother.

Calling this man an Uncle Tom,
And telling this woman to get an afro,
But you won't speak to her if she looks like hell, will you, brother?

Some of us been checking you act out kinda closely.
And by now it's looking kinda shaky, the way you been rushing people with your super-black bag.
Jumping down on some black men with both feet because they are after their B.A.
But you're never around when your B.A. is in danger.
I mean your black ASS.

I think it was a little too easy for you to forget that you were a negro before Malcolm.
You drove your white girl through the village every Friday night,
While the grass roots stared in envy and drank wine.
Do you remember?

You need get your memory banks organized, brother.
Show that man you call an Uncle Tom just where he is wrong.
Show that woman that you are a sincere black man.

All we need to do is see you SHUT UP AND BE BLACK.
Help that woman.
Help that man.
That's what brothers are for, brother.

it was not enough that we were bought and brought to this home as the slave, locked in the bowels of a floating shithouse, watching those we love eaten away by plauge and insanity, flesh falling like strips of bark from a termite-infested tree, bones rotting turning first to brittle ivory then to resin.
that was not enough.
it was not enough that we were chained to leg irons, black on black with a piss stained wall forced to heed nature's call through and inside of tattered rags that strained our privates, and evidently years of slavery did not appease your need to be superior to something like a crazed lion hung up on being the king of his corner of the cage, backs bent under the wieght of being everything and having nothing, minds too like bomerrangs curving back into themselves kicked and carved by the face-straining smiles that saved my life.
that was not enough.
somehow i can not believe that it would be enough for me to melt with you and integrate without the thoughts of rape and murder. i cannot conceive of peace on earth until i have given you a piece of lead or pipe to end your worthless motherfucking exitence. imagine your nightmares of my sneaking into a vieled of satin bedroom and attacking your daughter, wife and mother at once ripping open their bowels sexually like a wishbone. imagine that magnified a million times when you realize that the blinders have been stripped from my eyes and I realize that slavery was no smiling happy-fizzy party. your ancestors raped my foremothers and i will not forget. i will not forget that Yale or Harvard or Princeton or In-Hell because you are on my mind. i see you everytime my woman walks down the street with her ass on her shoulders. i see you everytime i look in the mirror and think about the times that i would pat myself on the back for not being too black afterall. i think of you morning, noon and night and i wonder, "just exactly what in hell is enough?" everytime i see a rope or gun i remember, and to top it all of you ain't through yet. over fifty you have killed in mississippi since 1963. that doesn't even begin to begin all of those you have maimed, hit and run over, blinded, poisoned, starved, or castrated. i hope you do not think that a vote for John Kennedy took you off my shit-list because in the street there will only be black and white. there will be no Democrats, Republicans, Liberals, Conservatives, Moderates, or any other of the rest of that shit you have used to make me forget to hate.
there ain't no enough. there ain't no surrender. there is only plot and plan, move and groove, kill. there is no promise land. there is only the promise. the promise is not vowel until we have been nerve gassed, shot down and murdered, or done some of the same ourselves. look over your shoulder motherfucker, i am coming.

Mmmmm

I can't seem to find
the words to say (to say)

I don't have strength to play the games
you need to play (to play)

Every day I seem to be running from the truth
I ask myself questions but it just ain't no use
'Cause it seems no matter, no matter, what I try to do
I'm still loving and living, lying and losing
Every day (Yeah, every day)

I've got a job
And to say the least
It don't mean a thing (it don't mean a thing)
It don't begin to compare
With the hurt and pair that I've seen (I've seen)
Sometimes I know I can't tell wrong from right
I don't seem to know day from night
It's no wonder that the whole world uptight
They're just loving and living, lying and losing
Every day (Yeah, every day)

Stop on the way home
From work to have a drink
Just to give myself a little time to think
'Cause it seems that more and more I start to realize
That the truth that I wanted
The love that I needed
Has somehow disappeared before my eyes

I can't seem to find the words I need to say (to say)
I can't find strength enough to play the games you need, you need to play (to play)
'Cause every day you got me, got me running from the truth
And no matter, no matter what I try to do
It seems that somehow it just ain't no use
I'm still loving and living, lying and losing
Can't seem to remember
God it's so confusing
I'm still loving and living, lying and losing
Every day (Yeah, every day)

A giant eye zapped across the screen,
With tentacle type feeler type thin roots,
Reaching for someone maybe me,
With large black block letters,
Chiseled into the white around the pupils screaming,
R e v o l u t i o n,
Revolution,
And as the eye giant and green,
Sort of oozed with no obvious locomotion,
Closer and closer until it was like this on my screen,
It split and blood flowed down each side of the street,
Washing away things that we didn't need to see,
Just like beer cans peanut shells and copies of the daily news,
And then laying there, bleeding like a stuck pig,
Was a stuck pig,
Get the point?

Picture a man of nearly thirty
Who seems twice as old with clothes torn and dirty
Give him a job shining shoes
Or cleaning out toilets with bus station crews
Give him six children with nothing to eat
Expose them to life on a ghetto street
Tie an old rag around his wife's head
And have her pregnant and lying in bed
Stuff them all in a Harlem house
And then tell them how bad things are down South.

Glad to get high and see the slow motion world.
Just to reach, and touch, the half notes floating.
Worlds spinning orbit quicker than 9/8ths Dave Brubeck.
We come now, frantically searching for Thomas Moore, rainbow villages.
Up on suddenly, Charlie Mingus and our man Abdul Malik,
to add bass, to a bottomless pit of insecurity.

You may be plastic because you never meditate,
about the bottom of glasses, The third side of your universe.

Add on Alice Coltrane and her cosmic strains.
Still no vocal on blue black horizons.

Your plasticity is tested by a formless assault.
The sun can answer questions in tune, to all your sacrifices.
But why would our new jazz age give us no more mind expanding puzzles?

Enter John.

Blow from under, always, and never, so that the morning, the sun,
may scream of brain bending saxophones.

The third world arrives, with Yusef Lateef, and Pharaoh Saunders.
With oboes straining to touch the core of your unknown soul.
Ravi Shankar comes, with strings attached, prepared to stabilize your seventh sense,
Your black rhythm.

Up and down a silly ladder run the notes, without the words.
Words are important for the mind, but the notes are for the soul.
Miles Davis, So what?
Cannonball, Fiddler, Mercy.
Dexter Gordon, One Flight Up.
Donald Byrd, playing Cristo, but what about words?

Would you like to survive on sadness? Call on Ella and Jose Happiness.
Drift with Smokey, Bill Medley, Bobby Taylor, and Otis Redding.
Soul music where frustrations are washed by drums, Nina and Miriam.

Congo, Mongo, Beat me, senseless, bongo, Tonto.
Flash through dream worlds of STP and LSD.
Speed kills and sometimes musics call, is frustrated.
And the black man is confused.

Our speed is our life pace, much too fast, not good.
I beg you to escape, and live, and hear all of the real.
Until a call comes for you to cry elsewhere.
We must all cry, but tell me.

Must our tears be white?

This is just like listening
to a conversation being held
by the many people who congregate
on one of the most popular blocks
in the largest area of black America

Did you ever eat cornbread and black eye peas
Or watermelon and mustard greens?
Get high as you can on Saturday night
Go to church on Sunday to set things right

Listen

I seen Miss Blake after Willy yesterday
She'd've killed anybody who got in her way
Hey look I got a TV for a pound on the head
And Jimmy Jean got the best Panamanian Red

No I ain't got on no underclothes
But we all got to get through this gypsy rose
I think Clay got his very good points
You say a trade bag with thirteen joints?

Who cares if LBJ is in town?
Up with Stokely and H. Rap Brown
I don't know if the riots is wrong
But whitey's been kickin' my ass for too long

I was s'posed to baby but they held my pay.
Did you hear what the number was yesterday?
Junkies is all right when they ain't broke
They leaves you alone when they high on dope

Damn, but I wish I could get up and move
Shut up. Hell you know that ain't true.

The subject was faggots
and the quote was "ain't nothin' happenin' but faggots and dope"
Faggots and dope, faggots and faggots and faggots who line dot dot dot dot dot
Like that, 34th street and 8th avenue
Giggling and grinning and prancing and shit
Trying their best to see to see the misses and misery
and miscellaneous misfits who attend the faggot ball
faggots who have come to ball
faggots who have come to ball
faggots who were balling because they couldn't get their balls
inside the faggot hall
Balling, balling, ball-less faggots
cutie cootie and snoodie faggots
I mean you just had to dig it to dig it
the crowning attraction being the arrival of Ms Brooklyn
looking like a half-back in a mini-skirt
with swan feathers covering
his err hers a it's pectoral and balls
and he err she or it prepared to enter the faggot ball
but sitting on the corner digging all that I did as I did
long long, black limousines and long flowin' evening gowns
had there been no sign on the door saying "faggot ball"
I might have entered, and god only knows just what would've happened

Standing in the ruins
Of another Black man's life,
or flying through the valley
They're separating day and night.
"I am death," cried the Vulture.
"For the people of the light."

Charon brought his raft
and came from the sea that sails on souls,
And saw the scavenger departing,
taking warm hearts to the cold.
He knew the ghetto was the haven
for the meanest creature ever known.

In a wilderness of heartbreak
and a desert of despair,
Evil's clarion of justice
shrieks a cry of naked terror.
He's taking babies from their mommas
and leaving grief beyond compare.

So if you see the Vulture coming,
he's flying circles in your mind,
Remember there is no escaping
for he will follow close behind.
Only promised me a battle,
battle for your soul and mine.

He taking babies from their momas
And he's leaving
Leaving
Leaving
Leaving
Leaving

A rat done bit my sister Nell
With Whitey on the moon
Her face and arms began to swell
And Whitey's on the moon

I can't pay no doctor bills
But Whitey's on the moon
Ten years from now I'll be paying still
While Whitey's on the moon

You know, the man just upped my rent last night
Cause Whitey's on the moon
No hot water, no toilets, no lights
But Whitey's on the moon

I wonder why he's uppin' me?
Cause Whitey's on the moon?
Well i was already given him fifty a week
And now Whitey's on the moon

Taxes takin' my whole damn check
The junkies make me a nervous wreck
The price of food is goin up
And if all that crap wasn't enough
A rat done bit my sister nell
With Whitey on the moon

Her face and arms began to swell
And Whitey's on the moon

With all that money i made last year
For Whitey on the moon
How come I ain't got no money here?
Hmm, Whitey's on the moon

You know I just about had my fill
Of Whitey on the moon
I think I'll send these doctor bills
airmail special
(To Whitey on the moon)

Many suggestions
And documents written.
Many directions
For the end that was given.
They gave us
Pieces of silver and pieces of gold.
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?

Many fine speeches (oh yeah)
From the White House desk (uh huh)
Written on the cue cards
That were never really there. Yes,
But the heat and the summer were there
And the freezing winter's cold. Now
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?

Call my brother a junkie 'cause he ain't got no job (no job, no job).
Told my old man to leave me when times got hard (so hard).
Told my mother she got to carry me all by herself.
And now that I want to be a man (be a man) who can depend on no one else (oh yeah).
What about the red man
Who met you at the coast?
You never dig sharing;
Always had to have the most.
And what about Mississippi,
The boundary of old?
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?

Call my brother a junkie 'cause he ain't got no job
Told my old man to leave me when times got hard (so hard).
Told my mother she got to carry me all by herself.
Wanna be a man that can depend on no one else (oh yeah).
What about the red man,
Who met you at the coast?
You never dig sharing;
Always had to have the most.
And what about Mississippi,
The boundaries of old?
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?

Many fine speeches (oh yeah)
From the White House desk (uh huh)
Written on the cue cards
That were never really there. Yes,
But the heat and the summer were there
And the freezing winter's cold.
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?
Who'll pay reparations,
‘Cause I don't dig segregation, but I
can't get integration
I got to take it to the United Nations,
Someone to help me away from this nation.
Tell me,
Who'll pay reparations on my soul?

Ahh lovely day……

I never really thought of myself as a complex man,
Or as someone who was really that hard to understand.
But it would hardly take a genius to realize
That I’ve always been a lot too arrogant and a little too f$%kin’ wise
That was a combination that made folks feel duty bound,
To do whatever they could to try and shoot me down.
To head off some of the things I might possibly say,
And see if they couldn’t take some of my pride away.
To bring me disappointment and teach me to fear it
Obviously these are folks that just didn’t have no spirit
Spirits say

[chorus]
Don’t give up (spirits say don’t give up)
Yes it’s time to stop your fallin’
You’ve been down long enough
Can’t you hear the spirits callin’
Yes it’s the spirits
Can’t you hear iiiiiit
Callin’ your name x 2
Yeah talkin’ bout spiriiiiiiiiiiits heh

There are people whose lives are so far of the track
That what they like best about life is stabbing’ brothers in the back
And I was obviously too blind and probably too weak
To see who was responsible for my losing streak
The best way to explain it is to say simply because
I was looking around outside and the truth is I was
the one. So I got locked into all of the analysis
And found myself locked into a kind of paralysis
And something was calling and I almost didn’t hear it
But I spent a lot of time being blessed by the spirits
They keep saying

[Chorus]

I didn’t matter if it was a child or and adult
There was absolutely no-one that I could not insult.
So that I could isolate myself somewhere off to the side
And continue to juggle all the possible whys
The warmth I wanted to generate so well
Had turned into a frozen hell
And the discouraging injustices I felt
Had pinned me somewhere inside a drug infested cell
Where those who told didn’t know and those who knew didn’t tell
And “I could continue to feel sorry for my self” [echo of “”]
And then I heard
[Chorus]

Ain’t no way overnight to turn your life around
And this ain’t the conversation of someone that never falls back down
But no matter how long you’ve been on trial
With the days and weeks of self denial
And no matter how many times you’ve tried to make it
And found out that right then you just couldn’t take it
If you are looking for a looser who found strength and success
Remember the spirit of Brother Malcolm X
And know that you can leave all your mistakes behind
The day that you “really make up your mind” [echo of “”]
Come on brother… come on up
Stand on up and say…
[Chorus]

Give Her a Call on the Spirits album, 1994.

My life is one of movement

I been running as fast as I can

I've inherited trial and error directly from my old man

But I'm committed to the consequences

Whether I stand or fall

And when I get back to my life

I think I'm gonna give her a call

She's been waiting patiently

For me to get myself together

And it touches something deep inside

When she said she'd wait forever

Because forever's right up on me now

That is, if it ever comes at all

And when I'm back to my life

I think I'll give her a call.

Hey, yeah, we the same brothas from a long time ago
We was talkin' about television and doin' it on the radio
What we did was to help our generation realize
They had to get out there and get busy cause it wasn't gonna be televised
We got respect for you rappers and the way they be free-weighin'
But if you're gon' be teachin' folks things, make sure you know what you're sayin'
Older folks in our neighborhood got plenty of know-how
Remember if it wasn't for them, you wouldn't be out here now
And I ain't comin' at you with no disrespect
All I'm sayin' is that you damn well got to be correct
Because if you're gonna be speakin' for a whole generation
And you know enough to try and handle their education
Make sure you know the real deal about past situations
It ain't just repeatin' what you heard on the local TV stations
...Sometimes they tell lies and put 'em in a truthful disguise
But the truth is that's why we said it wouldn't be televised
They don't know what to say to our young folks, but they know that you do
And if they really knew the truth...why would they tell you?
The first sign is peace, tell all them gun totin' young brothas
That the man is glad to see us out there killin' one another
We raised too much hell when they was shootin' us down
So they started poisoning our minds tryin' to jerk us all around
And they tell us they got to come in and control our situation
They want half of us on dope and the other half in incarceration
If the ones they want dead ain't killed by what they instigated
They put some dope on a brotha's body and claim it was drug related
Tell them drug related means there don't need to be no investigation
Or at least that's the way they're gon' play it on the local TV stations
All your 9-millimeter brothas...give them somthin' to think about
Tell them you heard that this is the new word, they got to work that stuff out
But somehow they feel in the wrong way with a gun in their hands
They feel real independent...but they just pullin' contracts for the man
Five and five will tell you it's hopeless out there on the avenue
But if they really knew the truth...why would they tell you?
And if they look at you like you're insane
And they start callin' you scarecrow and say you ain't got no brain
Or start tellin' folks that you suddenly gone lame
Or that white folks had finally co-opted your game
Or worse yet implying that you don't really know...
That's the same thing they said about us...a long time ago
Young rappers, one more suggestion before I get out of your way
But I appreciate the respect you give me and what you got to say
I'm sayin' protect your community and spread that respect around
Tell brothas and sistas they gotta calm that bullshit down
Cause we're terrorizin' our old folks and brought fear into our homes
And they ain't got to hang out with the senior citizens
Just tell them, “Dammit...leave the old folks alone”
And we know who rippin' off the neighborhood, tell them, “That BS has got to stop!”
Tell them you're sorry they can't handle it out there
But they got to take the crime off the block
And if they look at you like you're insane
And they start callin' you scarecrow and say you ain't got no brain
Or start tellin' folks that you suddenly gone lame
Or that white folks had finally co-opted your game
Or worse yet saying that you really don't know...
That's the same thing they said about me a long time ago
And if they tell folks that you finally lost your nerve
That's the same thing they said about us, when we said, “Johannesburg”
But I think the young folks need to know, that things don't go both ways
You can't talk respect of every other song or just every other day
What I'm speakin' on now is the raps about the women folks
On one song she's your African Queen on the next one she's a joke
And you ain't said no words that I haven't heard, but that ain't no compliment
It only insults eight people out of ten and questions your intelligence
Four letter words or four syllable words won't make you important
It'll only magnify how shallow you are and let everybody know it
And if they look at you like they think you insane
Or they call you scarecrow thinkin' you ain't got no brain
Or start tellin' folks that you suddenly gone lame
Or that white folks have finally co-opted your game
Or you really don't know...They said that about me a long time ago
If they finally start to tell people that you lost your nerve
That's what they said about Johannesburg
You ain't insane...you have got a brain
You haven't gone lame; you have got your game
Remember...keep the nerve
Keep the nerve
Keep the nerve
Keep the nerve
...I'm talkin' about peace

It's getting to be the time of year
When people once spoke of love and good cheer
Peace on Earth and good will to all men

And we all believed that there'd come a day
When peace would be much more than "on it's way"
Cause peace has been on it's way since I don't know when

And the folks who decide what will be
They haven't confided in me
And i don't think that everybody can wait 'til then

It makes me sad that my kids won't see
Christmas the way it used to be
I was so excited though we didn't have a dime

But that seems like such a long time ago
And I am still a child I know
But it seems like we've lost much more than the time

Cause the folks who decide what will be
They haven't confided in me
And I don't think that everybody can wait 'til then

No, I don't think that everybody can wait 'til then

No, I don't think that everybody can wait 'til then

Back when Eisenhower was the President,
Golf courses was where most of his time was spent.
So I never really listened to what the President said,
Because in general I believed that the General was politically dead.
But he always seemed to know when the muscles were about to be flexed,
Because I remember him saying something, mumbling something about a Military Industrial Complex.
Americans no longer fight to keep their shores safe,
Just to keep the jobs going in the arms making workplace.
Then they pretend to be gripped by some sort of political reflex,
But all they're doing is paying dues to the Military Industrial Complex.
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary.
The Military and the Monetary,
get together whenever they think its necessary,
They turn our brothers and sisters into mercenaries, they are turning the planet into a cemetery.
The Military and the Monetary, use the media as intermediaries,
they are determined to keep the citizens secondary, they make so many decisions that are arbitrary.
We're marching behind a commander in chief,
who is standing under a spotlight shaking like a leaf.
but the ship of state had landed on an economic reef,
so we knew he was going to bring us messages of grief.
The Military and the Monetary,
were shielded by January and went storming into February,
Brought us pot bellied generals as luminaries,
two weeks ago I hadn't heard of the son of a bitch,
now all of a sudden he's legendary.
They took the honour from the honourary,
they took the dignity from the dignitaries,
they took the secrets from the secretary,
but they left the bitch in obituary.
The Military and the Monetary,
from thousands of miles away in a Saudi Arabian sanctuary,
had us all scrambling for our dictionaries,
cause we couldn't understand the fuckin vocabulary.
Yeah, there was some smart bombs,
but there was some dumb ones as well,
scared the hell out of CNN in that Baghdad hotel.
The Military and the Monetary,
they get together whenever they think its necessary,
War in the desert sometimes sure is scary,
but they beamed out the war to all their subsidiaries.
Tried to make So Damn Insane a worthy adversary,
keeping the citizens secondary,
scaring old folks into coronaries.
The Military and the Monetary,
from thousands of miles in a Saudi Arabian sanctuary,
kept us all wondering if all of this was really truely, necessary.
We've got to work for Peace,
Peace ain't coming this way.
If we only work for Peace,
If everyone believed in Peace the way they say they do,
we'd have Peace.
The only thing wrong with Peace,
is that you can't make no money from it.
The Military and the Monetary,
they get together whenever they think its necessary,
they've turned our brothers and sisters into mercenaries,
they are turning the planet, into a cemetery.
Got to work for Peace,
Peace ain't coming this way.
We should not allow ourselves to be mislead,
by talk of entering a time of Peace,
Peace is not the absence of war,
it is the absence of the rules of war and the threats of war and the preparation for war.
Peace is not the absence of war,
it is the time when we will all bring ourselves closer to each other,
closer to building a structure that is unique within ourselves
because we have finally come to Peace within ourselves.
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary.
Get together whenever they think its necessary,
they've turned our brothers and sisters into mercenaries,
they are turning parts of the planet, into a cemetery.
The Military and the Monetary,
The Military and the Monetary,
We hounded the Ayatollah religiously,
Bombed Libya and killed Quadafi's son hideously.
We turned our back on our allies the Panamanians,
and saw Ollie North selling guns to the Iranians.
Watched Gorbachev slaughtering Lithuanians,
We better warn the Amish,
they may bomb the Pennsylvanians.
The Military and the Monetary,
get together whenever they think its necessary,
they have turned our brothers and sisters into mercenaries,
they are turning the planet, into a cemetery.
I don't want to sound like no late night commercial,
but its a matter of fact that there are thousands of children all over the world
in Asia and Africa and in South America who need our help.
When they start talking about 55 cents a day and 70 cents a day,
I know a lot of folks feel as though that,
thats not really any kind of contribution to make,
but we had to give up a dollar and a half just to get in the subway nowadays.
So this is a song about tommorrow and about how tommorrow can be better. if we all,
"Each one reach one, Each one try to teach one".
Nobody can do everything,
but everybody can do something,
everyone must play a part,
everyone got to go to work, Work for Peace.
Spirit Say Work, Work for Peace
If you believe the things you say, go to work.
If you believe in Peace, time to go to work.
Cant be wavin your head no more, go to work.

We deal in too many externals, brother
Always afro's, handshakes and dashikis
Never can a man build a working structure for black capitalism
Always does the man read Mao or Fanon

I think I know you would-be black revolutionaries too well
Standing on a box on the corner, talking about blowing the white man away
That's now where it's at yet, brother

Calling this man an Uncle Tom and telling this woman to get an afro
But you won't speak to her if she looks like hell, now will you brother
Some of us been checking your act out kinda close

And by now its looking kinda shaky
The way you been rushin' people with your super black bag
Jumping down on some black men with both feet cause they're after their B-A
But you're never around when your BA is in danger, I mean your black ass
I think it was a little too easy for you to forget that you were a negro before Malcolm
You drove your white girl through the village every Friday night
While the grassroots stared in envy and drank wine, do you remember?
You need to get your memory banks organized brother.

Show that man you call an Uncle Tom just where he's wrong
Show that woman that you're a sincere black man
All we need to do is see you shut up and be black
Help that woman
Help that man
That's what brothers are for brother.

A junkie walking through the twilight
I'm on my way home
I left three days ago, but no one seems to know I'm gone
Home is where the hatred is
Home is filled with pain and it,
Might not be such a bad idea if I never, never went home again

Stand as far away from me as you can and ask me why
Hang on to your rosary beads
Close your eyes to watch me die
You keep saying, kick it, quit it, kick it, quit it
God, but did you ever try
To turn your sick soul inside out
So that the world, so that the world
Can watch you die

Home is where I live inside my white powder dreams
Home was once an empty vacuum that's filled now with my silent screams
Home is where the needle marks
Try to heal my broken heart
And it might not be such a bad idea if I never, if I never went home again
Home again
Home again
Home again
Kick it, quit it
Kick it, quit it
Kick it, quit it
Kick it, can't go home again