Now all of the people were gathered around down by the steeple in the center of the town to witness the hanging of dirty old Joe Brown, that preacher man who drank that whiskey shot his woman down the executioner – cowl on his head, to hide-away an ancient face of restless nights in bed, is summoned to the gallows to earn himself some bread and hang his beloved preacher man until he’s limp and dead the people cried and spit and whistled, them hearts was black as coal the executioner wondered who now was gonna save his soul the mayor took his hat off, said this man has got to go – them people need an example, come on now feed him to the crows well he stepped to the lever – let me tell you what he done, he reached inside his waistcoat and pulled him out his gun, and he said, “Don’t you forget now just how the West was won” and he shot that mayor in his head and he rode-off into the sun the moral of this story is he lived without regret – when asked about that day, he’ll say, “My boy don’t you forget” then he’ll crack himself a smile and he’ll light a cigarette, and he’ll say, “I’m the fucking law, my friend” and that’s as good as you’re gonna getīeggar’s night there are stones yet to throw the streets are canals for our wisdom to flow – that moon is king to thieves like we are, yet here we’ve arrived the writing is bold and it’s high on the wall, the avenue ends where the rambler falls – chaos is the flower of the night: watch it all burn down! We’ve stolen fire, language of the poets, to soothe the harlequin soul Lovers escape, apocalypse rise, the war machine eats as the immigrant cries – these cops are drunk as me and the lobby is full of expensive opinions we’ve stolen fire, diseases on the radio, to soothe the harlequin soul Attention all you people out there in radio land – we have your propaganda machine surrounded We have penetrated your airwaves to inform you that your democracy is counterfeit the mannequin kings would love us to argue over whose lives matter while payola pours from every speaker and screen but the pantomime is just a sleight of hand, for if you’re not feeling represented, then it’s time to go out into the streets and represent yourself so folks, in coming times – things may get strange, but I just want you to remember one thing – when the man is at your door, be cool baby – be real cool you can escape hell if you don’t believe it, I know you see there’s no truth and god is dead, burn all the liars and burn all the steeples, burn all the priests and decrees that god has spread
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