1. |
White Washed
03:41
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Brace for the prophecy wind;
For the last of the Chickasaw voices
And the world at its end.
Yeah, but you still bring peace.
Peace,
When the rivers run black.
Haunted Echoes of wounded knee ring out
Hotchkiss M1875
White ghosts of the dead.
Red like the neck of crybaby cowboy on an Oregon ranch.
And your privilege demands that you walk free.
When the sound cannons blast
The tear gas and hoses, rubber bullets clash
With a three hundred nation demand.
Dead man walking
The force of empire lurking at the door.
Cry havoc and you let slip the dogs of war.
Hard rain coming.
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2. |
The Light Fades
03:46
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Slow like black strap molasses
With your hands to the sky.
It's the tone of your skin.
It's the fire in your eyes.
Slow the motorcade creeps
To the White House, black gates.
It's the winter white skin
'tween red and the blue.
Slow the national anthem
Or the progress of man,
Or the death of a dream.
Such a stillborn relief.
Slow. There's nowhere go
And all of a sudden there's nowhere to run.
Hands up don't shoot.
Do you feel American yet? Do you have your hand on her neck? Slow, the blood drains. Black, the light fades.
Slow, put your knees to the ground.
Don't you dare turn around.
Don't you open your mouth.
Can you breathe?
How bout now?
like the heat of the night
And the pulse in your veins.
With your hand at your side...
Don't you train for this?
Fast like you've practiced before,
Like you dreamed of the power,
living black and red color.
Fast like the tear on the cheek
Of a baby to young to know what to do with a murder.
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3. |
Don Jr.
03:09
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I own your new truth.
You forfeit your soul for your skin
And the fruit of your seed.
Pure greed.
This is your new war.
These are your streets washed with blood
For the home of the brave.
There will be hell to pay.
You're a coward and you're pure contradiction.
Open up your eyes.
I am Don Jr.
I am your fortunate son
Of the new gilded age.
White rage.
I am salvation.
Bow to your gold painted calf,
Your original sin.
Death grip.
I am your hero in white.
Crosses on fire.
Let Them eat cake.
Let them eat shit.
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4. |
Death To All Who Yearn
04:49
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These are days of fire.
Nothing is sacred with blood on your hands.
Sweat stained huddled masses.
Esperanza.
Death to all who yearn.
Sun dried corpses.
Concrete fences.
Caskets.
Burned to ashes.
Hollow birthright.
Death to all who yearn.
These are days of fire.
War on generations.
Separation.
Casa Padre.
I hope you can sleep at night.
Never wake up.
Death to all who yearn.
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5. |
Spirit World Rising
05:21
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Don Jr. Charlottesville, Virginia
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