Propaganda of the Poem

Here’s a pastoral ballad from the great American poet Eric B. ( not the one who used to drop lyrics with Rakim – I mean the one from Colorado who ran for mayor of San Francisco once) and a prophetic tribute to the noble warriors for Social Justice such as now swarm in the streets of many U.S. cities. Not sure what brought the professional agitators out  – someone got shot somewhere, or something like that.

Ferguson thug hopestyle

Rioting: the unbeatable high Adrenalin shoots your nerves to the sky
Everyone knows this town is gonna blow And it’s all gonna blow right now
Now you can smash all the windows that you want
All you really need are some friends and a rock
Throwing a brick never felt so damn good
Smash more glassScream with a laugh
And wallow with the crowds / Watch them kicking peoples’ ass
But you get to the place / where the real slavedrivers live
It’s walled off by the riot squad / Aiming guns right at your head
So you turn right aroundAnd play right into their hands
And set your own neighborhood / Burning to the ground instead
Riot: the unbeatable high Riot: shoots your nerves to the sky
Riot: playing into their hands
Tomorrow you’re homeless Tonight it’s a blast!
Get your kicks in quick / They’re callin’ the national guard
Now could be your only chance / To torch a police car
Climb the roof, kick the siren in / And jump and yelp for joy
Quickly – dive back in the crowd Slip away, now don’t get caught
Let’s loot the spiffy hi-fi store / Grab as much as you can hold
Pray your full arms don’t fall off / Here comes the owner with a gun
Riot: the unbeatable high Riot: shoots your nerves to the sky
Riot: playing into their hands
Tomorrow you’re homeless Tonight it’s a blast!
[♪♫♪ BREAK ♫♫]
The barricades spring up from nowhereCops in helmets line the lines
Shotguns prod into your bellies / The trigger fingers want an excuse… NOW !
The raging mob has lost its nerve / There’s more of us but who goes first
No one dares to cross the line / The cops know that they’ve won
It’s all over but not quite / The pigs have just begun to fight
They club your heads, kick your teethPolice can riot all that they please
Riot: the unbeatable high Riot: shoots your nerves to the sky
Riot: playing into their hands
Tomorrow you’re homeless Tonight it’s a blast!
Tomorrow you’re homeless…  tonight it’s a blast…

“Riot” by Dead Kennedys [1982]

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