In celebration of Poetry Month and in commemoration of an event that happened a few months ago, I present Robert Zimmerman, a.k.a. "Bob Dylan", and his threat against the lives of Dick Cheney and George W. Bush:
MASTERS OF WAR Copyright 1963 by Bob Dylan Come you masters of war You that build all the guns You that build the death planes You that build the big bombs You that hide behind walls You that hide behind desks I just want you to know I can see through your masks You that never done nothin' But build to destroy You play with my world Like it's your little toy You put a gun in my hand And you hide from my eyes And you turn and run farther When the fast bullets fly Like Judas of old You lie and deceive A world war can be won You want me to believe But I see through your eyes And I see through your brain Like I see through the water That runs down my drain You fasten the triggers For the others to fire Then you set back and watch When the death count gets higher You hide in your mansion As young people's blood Flows out of their bodies And is buried in the mud You've thrown the worst fear That can ever be hurled Fear to bring children Into the world For threatening my baby Unborn and unnamed You ain't worth the blood That runs in your veins How much do I know To talk out of turn You might say that I'm young You might say I'm unlearned But there's one thing I know Though I'm younger than you Even Jesus would never Forgive what you do Let me ask you one question Is your money that good Will it buy you forgiveness Do you think that it could I think you will find When your death takes its toll All the money you made Will never buy back your soul And I hope that you die And your death'll come soon I will follow your casket In the pale afternoon And I'll watch while you're lowered Down to your deathbed And I'll stand o'er your grave 'Til I'm sure that you're dead
The only thing he left off was the urination upon their gravestones. I suspect that the Secret Service will have to post a permenant guard upon their graves once they're dead, otherwise it will smell like a urinal.
- Badtux the Non-Violent Penguin (hey, urinating on a grave IS non-violent, okay?)
My favorite is John Prine's very snarky "Your Flag Decal Won't Get You Into Heaven Anymore". But that's from the early 70's, not from the 60's.
ReplyDelete- Badtux the Elderly Penguin