Where the Executioner’s Face Is Always Well Hidden

( – promoted by buhdydharma )

Geithner’s in the basement,

Mixing up the medicine,

I’m on the pavement,

Thinking about the government.

Bankers in trench coats,

Every one’s a Madoff,

Say they got toxic debts,

Wanna get ’em paid off . . .

The banking system is rubble.  The economy’s imploding.  How did it come to this?   Why didn’t our “representatives” in Washington D.C. see this crisis coming?  Because they were too busy kissing Wall Street’s ass and K Street’s ass and Bush’s ass and the ass of every CEO in sight, that’s why they didn’t see this coming.      

We saw it coming.  We’re progressives.  We don’t need a fucking weatherman to know which way the wind blows.

We told America a hard rain’s gonna fall.  But America wouldn’t listen.

We saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it

We saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,

We saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin,

We saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin,

We saw a white ladder all covered with water,

We saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,

We saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children.

We heard the thunder of this approaching storm.  We warned Americans.  But they still wouldn’t listen

We heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin,

Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,

Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin,

Heard ten thousand whisperin and nobody listenin,

Heard one person starve, heard many people laughin,

Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,

Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley.

We warned them, but Americans wouldn’t listen to us.  They listened to Reagan instead, they listened to Bush, they listened to Republican hypocrites and all of their praise the Lord, family values, grab your paycheck and shop ’til you drop bullshit . . .    

Get dressed, get blessed

Try to be a success

Please her, please him, buy gifts

Don’t steal, don’t lift.

Republicans beat Americans over the head with that sermon for 30 years, and they said “Amen!”  And what did they get for it?

Twenty years of schooling

Just to end up on the day shift.

That’s what they got for it.

So America, let’s talk.  Are you still feeling that warm glow of American Exceptionalism? Or is this starting to feel like Manifest Destiny in reverse?  Are you losing everything?  Is it all being taken away from you by liars and thieves?  How does it feel to be walking this Trail of Tears?  Are you feeling like the first victims?  Are you feeling like a Native American YET?  How does it feel to be treated like they were?  Not so good, huh?  Yeah. I’ve noticed that.  

Now you don’t talk so loud

Now you don’t seem so proud

About having to be scrounging for your next meal.

Tell me, foreclosure victims . . .

How does it feel?

To be without a home?

How does it feel?

To be on your own?

Nobody ever taught you how to live on the street,

And now you’re gonna have to get used to it.

You said you’d never compromise,

With that predatory lender . . .

But now you realize,

He’s not selling any alibis,

As you stare into the vacuum of his eyes,

And say, do you want to make a deal?

Ain’t it hard when you discover that,

He really wasn’t where it’s at,

After he took from you everything he could steal?

Well don’t worry, the Treasury Department and the Fed are providing the President with excellent advice, so you can rest well until you’re dead, knowing that our distant descendants just might see a light at the end of this tunnel by the year 2525 at the latest, if man is still alive, if woman can survive.

There must be some way out of here, said the Joker to the Thief . . .

There’s too much confusion, they can’t get no relief.

Neither can we.  

Warmongers, they spill our blood, polluters kill our earth,

None of them along the line, know what any of it is worth.

And as the wind howls like a hammer,

As the night blows cold and rainy,

The truth is like a raven,

At my window with a broken wing.  

Harry ‘Give Us Hell’ Reid sent me a letter.  So I sent one back . . .

Yes, I received your letter yesterday

About how the economy broke

When you asked me how I was doing

Was that some kind of joke?

All those people that you mentioned . . .

Yes, I know them, they’re quite lame

I’m going to rearrange their faces

And give them all another name–Wall Street Hacks.  

Take a hike, Harry.

Right now I can’t read too good

Don’t send me no more letters, no

Not unless you mail them from

Desolation Row

Hey Republicans . . .

You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last.

But whatever you would keep, you better grab it fast.

Yonder stands your orphan with his gun,

Crying like a fire in the sun.

Look out, all that karma’s comin’ through

And it’s all over now, Baby Blue.

Hey War Profiteers . . .

All your seasick sailors, they’re all rowing home.

Your empty-handed armies, they’re all going home.

That FOX slut who just walked out your door

Has taken all her blankets from the floor.

Karma, too, is coming after you

And it’s all over now, Baby Blue.

Hey Christianists . . .

Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you.

Forget the dead you’ve left, they will not follow you.

The vagabond who’s rapping at your door,

Is standing in the clothes that you once wore.

Get born again a few more times, go start anew,

‘Cause it’s all over now, Baby Blue.

Hey Dick Cheney . . .

I wish that for just one time,

you could stand inside my shoes,

And just for that one moment,

I could be you.

Yes, I wish that for just one time,

You could stand inside my shoes,

You’d know what a drag it is,

To be on the same planet as you.

So what do progressives do now?

We’ll walk through the depths of this deepest black forest,

Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,

Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,

Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,

Where the executioner’s face is always well hidden,

Like the torturer’s face is always well hidden,

And the war profiteer’s face, and the credit default swapper’s face,

And the NSA wiretapper’s face, and the corporate criminal’s face,

Where they’re all well hidden, beyond the reach of justice,  

Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,

Where black is the color, where none is the number.

We’ll walk through the depths of this crisis, we’ll tell the truth about how America got here.  We’ll tell the truth about who’s responsible for it, we’ll confront Democrats when they refuse to do what needs to be done.  Up to and including the President.  Whenever it becomes necessary.  Every time it becomes necessary.  

We don’t need anyone’s permission or approval to stand up and speak out for what we believe in.  We don’t need permission from Barack Obama or Harry Reid or Nancy Pelosi or any Democrat.  And we damn well don’t need permission from Kos or from any of those Barney Fife Kos Kops of his.  If they want to know where they can put their itchy TR trigger fingers, I have a suggestion or two for them.  We’ll say what must be said.  We’ll do what must be done.  They can either help us or get the hell out of the way.  We don’t stand for any political party, we stand for progressive principles, we stand for the Constitution, the rule of law, and the truth.