Arson and Cold Grace, or How I Yearn to Burn Baby, Burn

by Worth Long, '67?

 

We have found you out, four face Americas, we have found you out.
We have found you out, false faced farmers, we have found you out.
The sparks of suspicion are melting your waters
And waters canít drown them, the fires are burning
And firemen canít calm them with falsely appeasing
And preachers canít pray with hopes for deceiving
Nor leaders deliver a lecture on losing
Nor teachers inform them the chosen are choosing
For now is the fire and fires wonít answer
To logical reason and hopefully seeming
Hot flames must devour the kneeling and feeling
And torture the masters whose idiot pleading
Get lost in the echoes of dancing and bleeding.
We have found you out, four faced farmers, we have found you out.
We have found you out, four faced America, we have found you out.

 


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