We’ve fallen off the Watchtower
another howl, another card
in the Sports Illustrated version of Tarot
another hexagram for Amelia
in the swimsuit edition of the I Ching
don’t believe in Beatles
as the fire lights in Trenchtown
anyone who had a heart
would know that now is the time for their tears
it wasn’t in a Chevy at the levy
it was in David Gilbert’s prison cell
it was again in the streets of Seattle
(that was no riot)
not the shotgun and syringe cry for love
the soundtrack of your life
has been sold
your precious forty-fives
promote yogurt and air pollution
even though
the revolution was not supposed to be televised
where you gonna run to?
that was no riot
that was another chance
at rebirth
what’s goin on?
there’s far too many of us cryin
in the White Room
and this is no place to hide
one too many moonlight rides
down Sunset Avenue
to the sea
just don’t forget to send me
Spanish boots of Spanish leather
and a rose from Harlem
and the jams from Motor City
just get up and dance
while you can
while you still want to
old school is still education
if it can link 8 miles high
with 8 Mile
and prevent the dream
from being a competition
don’t lose that number
and I’ll be there,
yes I will,
on the road
that’s constantly changing
c’mon people now
let’s remember everything
not just flowers in our hair
but Fred Hampton’s bed, too
the poisons that claimed us
as well as the gold and rose
color of the dreams we had
the way you knew your brothers and sisters
as well as the war
that never was brought home.