Poets, Prophets, and Protesters by David Bowden

Mute by David Bowden

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Poets, Prophets, and Protesters
by David Bowden

Album: Mute

We will be there
When the voiceless scream
When the children dream
When the lions scheme
When a teen's three ring binder teems with reams of an obscene razor reminder
When cold winter air tares through the bare backed cracks on street weathered skin
When minds mold like old loaves of suburban rye
When bricks hold hopes of Acme American plasma screens
When teams, scores, and rosters mean more than bare feet, whores, and fosters
When Pilate's silent non-violent becomes an advertisement client of war corp. unlimited
When children cry bullets and eat gang signs
When oppression lies folded in the wallets of double-breasted wolves
Swiping their MasterCard
Iraqi Liberation 90,000 Middle Eastern Lives
American Consumerism 6,000,000 Children a year
Wealthy Tax Cuts 744,000 Homeland Homeless
Maintaining Capitalism Priceless
When the rich get rigged to rockets rockin them up to the right hand of Mammon
When the poor get poured out to sort out the recycling:
Paper, plastic, aluminum
Breakfast, Lunch Dinner
When choirs cease to sing
When tiny brass bells on shiny blue bikes cease to ring
When red words on a page validate hate to gun sling
When left wing and right wing both bow down to the green king
When the klan and their similarly colored house say the same thing
When a female's retail is based off the detail of her swing
When men buy porn and scorn their wives touch on a bedspring
When people dying in the morning is as boring as lacing up your shoe strings
When peace is raped on the third date, but the man in the bush says it was a high school fling
When hip-hop stops talking for change, to start wearing chains of belligerent bling
When bullet holes are a warm home
When deafness is the number one killer of the voiceless
When justice is a four-letter word printed on greenbacks
When screen attacks crack the thin candy shell coating the ex-lax pill, supplementing moral fiber
When none are the wiser
When guns become investment advisors
When media reruns chew idle fears with fatal incisors
When God's son and country lines share a common divisor
When sidewalk suggestions slaughter social syntax
When hope is a ghost, a white vapor soul
We will be there