Tell me my friend
Posted: December 6th, 2014, 2:27 pm
I miss the sound of vinyl records with diamond needles
with that scratchy fuzz crackle behind the stereo music
It was like a fire noise that raged in the grooves of groovy
that reminded us who we are, that each song came with
a message, that was pulled from some rut in a gut
where did rock and roll come from, if not from a crying the night
torn from a restlessness in the atmosphere, a crack in the culture
The Beatles came along right after Kennedy was assassinated
to fill the void left by that nightmare of American grotesque
Our history books are filled with carefully crafted lies
or outright distortions of the truth, to the tune of, would you
recognize it if you saw it, to the tune of " I can't get no satisfaction"
it's all about distraction, the next attraction, the next pop song
that will not poo poo pop your society's child bubble, the rubble
that we live our lives in, of garbage in perfect little consumers out
once they put a man on the moon, we all collectively said "wow"
almost forgot that it was one big step for mankind, remember
he did not say giant step for God, where did the real leap of fire
really happen here, that yesterday they sent another rocket up
because we are destroying the planet that makes the space ships
and we still believe the myth that the scientists tell us, that we
had better get off the world before we blow it to hell and back
before the oceans are so dead and clogged with plastic fantastic
before we are invaded by aliens who look at us like insects
before the politicians made another backroom deal with death
before all the good people who never said a word go to heaven
or the hell they call heaven, the one on earth where god is greed
and you all have everything you need, who am I to disagree
when I was a kid I got lots of nice wrapped gifts under the Christmas
tree, buy the time I almost was a teenager I had not seen a real one
all the trees were now fake, just like the things they were teaching
me in school, but somehow I learned to read, and that was the break
in all the other crank out education, I could read things written by
real thinkers, writers of strange, I could come across a poem
left on the ground by some hidden hand of this far out land
with that scratchy fuzz crackle behind the stereo music
It was like a fire noise that raged in the grooves of groovy
that reminded us who we are, that each song came with
a message, that was pulled from some rut in a gut
where did rock and roll come from, if not from a crying the night
torn from a restlessness in the atmosphere, a crack in the culture
The Beatles came along right after Kennedy was assassinated
to fill the void left by that nightmare of American grotesque
Our history books are filled with carefully crafted lies
or outright distortions of the truth, to the tune of, would you
recognize it if you saw it, to the tune of " I can't get no satisfaction"
it's all about distraction, the next attraction, the next pop song
that will not poo poo pop your society's child bubble, the rubble
that we live our lives in, of garbage in perfect little consumers out
once they put a man on the moon, we all collectively said "wow"
almost forgot that it was one big step for mankind, remember
he did not say giant step for God, where did the real leap of fire
really happen here, that yesterday they sent another rocket up
because we are destroying the planet that makes the space ships
and we still believe the myth that the scientists tell us, that we
had better get off the world before we blow it to hell and back
before the oceans are so dead and clogged with plastic fantastic
before we are invaded by aliens who look at us like insects
before the politicians made another backroom deal with death
before all the good people who never said a word go to heaven
or the hell they call heaven, the one on earth where god is greed
and you all have everything you need, who am I to disagree
when I was a kid I got lots of nice wrapped gifts under the Christmas
tree, buy the time I almost was a teenager I had not seen a real one
all the trees were now fake, just like the things they were teaching
me in school, but somehow I learned to read, and that was the break
in all the other crank out education, I could read things written by
real thinkers, writers of strange, I could come across a poem
left on the ground by some hidden hand of this far out land
