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For the Change
06.28.20
How could I bring my pain to the river
When the river itself I have drained
How could I let my greed get so thirsty
And How will I show up for the change
How could I learn the song of a bird
If I kept her locked up in a cage?
How could I sing it, myself so freely
And How will I show up for the change?
I see the path
Laid out before me
I want to find a new way
I want to walk with the others
With my sisters and brothers
And I want to show up for the change
How can I listen to the sound of a silence,
The hands of my ancestors made
How could I turn my eyes from that violence?
And how will I show up for the change?
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Under a black umbrella, you were keeping to yourself
And the rain came down like diamonds on the sidewalk where you stood
Another lonely town across the endless bible belt
Nothing big enough for headlines ever happened here until today
Looking like a stranger in your older brother’s coat
You were watching from the corner, as the day slowly unfolded
A ringing bell against the door of Frank’s savings and loan
And you saw it all, the teller ducking down, the gun exploding
Like an old bronze statue you were frozen there in place
One man slumped on the counter while the other filled a pillowcase
And suddenly your feet were running, rain all in your face
Across the street, the ringing bell, the door, the engine roaring
Blood was on the floor, the teller reaching out his hand
And you felt his pulse, you called for help, you tried to stop the bleeding
Sirens on the boulevard, a rush of blue motion
Like a wave came on, their weapons drawn, the teller’s soul just leaving
Hands over your head they said, and you tried to tell the truth
The pillowcase, the getaway, the car, the blood and you
In your older brother’s coat, your stocking hat and worn out shoes
But to them you were just some punk kid cracked out and skipping school
Anger like a freighter pulling punches in your head
And you tried to push your way past all the uniforms and the dead man
But they pulled you to the ground your face pressed on the wet cement
Like an animal, spreadeagle, the umbrella in your waistband
Gun, somebody cried, and you kicked your legs and broke the window
In a chaos of confusion, raining glass like diamonds loosed and you were
On your feet again and then a bullet danced right through you
And the ground came up like some great flood and then you were not moving
Under a black umbrella you were keeping to yourself
And the rain came down like diamonds on the sidewalk where you fell
And nothing in the headlines even mentioned you at all
Just a corner note about a cracked out kid who broke the law
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3. |
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There’s a certain austere majesty
To the cruelty of history
As long as it didn’t happen
As long as it didn’t happen to you
One day good old Joe Stalin got it into his
imaginative little head that Shostakovich’s opera,
Lady Macbeth, was somehow subversive. And so
over the next year, he arrested or executed the
great composer’s friends and family, egg-headed
intellectual types such as astronomers,
musicologists, physicists, and even his mother-in-
law. And Shostakovich was officially labeled (wait
for it) an “enemy of the people.” Thankfully, eighty
years later, Russian heads of state aren’t killing
people and nobody would ever use the term
“enemy of the people” here in the USA, would
they?
There’s a certain cartoonish obscenity
To the cruelty of history
As long as it didn’t happen
As long as it didn’t happen to you
When the Cherokee were being forcibly removed
from their lands in the 1800s, they took their case
all the way to the Supreme Court, which in 1832
found them to be a sovereign nation. But you
wouldn’t know it from the actions of President
Andrew Jackson, who sent the U.S. Army to
march them off their land anyhow. And while he
probably never actually said “Chief Justice
Marshall has made his decision; now let him
enforce it” well... actions speak louder than
words. How do you like those checks and
balances? And I’m not naming names, but I’ll give
you one guess as to which President has Old
Hickory’s portrait hanging in his office...
There’s a certain childish spite
To the cruelty of history
As long as it didn’t happen
As long as it doesn’t happen to you
I’m sure we all agree that the first-hand
experience of being enslaved was unimaginably
painful and degrading, but let’s turn our attention
to the salt in the wound known as the 3/5ths
compromise in the U.S. Constitution, which meant
that not only would you be tortured and raped and
worked to death, but that your body (or three fifths
of it, at least) would be counted in the census. So,
although you couldn’t vote, your body was used to
give your captors greater political representation.
Boy that must’ve stung. Thankfully, 233 years
later, things are different. Let’s take the case of
some young man in Chicago, busted for
possession of weed. If he’s a person of color, it’s
a fact that he’s likelier to go to prison, and mass
incarceration being what it is, he’s likely to wind
up in a prison out in, say, Greenville, Illinois, or
Jacksonville, Illinois... largely white districts,
where, you guessed it, he’ll be counted in the
census. So, although he can’t vote, his body will
be used to give greater political representation to
his captors! Dizzying, isn’t it? Are you looking for
a sudden pivot into American exceptionalism and
basic human decency? Sorry, you’re in the wrong
song, my friend. Maybe once you’re done
listening to this folksong, get to the voting booth
or better yet out in streets, and bend the moral arc
like your life depends on it.
Oh- one parting thought: Karl Marx said that
history repeats itself, first as tragedy, then as
farce. Well... let’s hope so.
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4. |
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Nudo de raíces
Soy muchos pedacitos de muchos lugares
Pelo lacio, cola grande
Idiomas mezclados, acento desconocido
Desconocido, por las fronteras, las familias, los mares
Cantando con los ojos, porque no sé la letra
Cantando con el cuerpo que me he dejado amar.
Siempre me faltan las palabras
A veces me duele el desarraigo
Nunca seré “de” un lugar – ni aquí, ni allá
Acepto mi vida como hogar.
Amo, acepto, me amo, me acepto
Respiro, canto,
Y me vuelvo a sembrar
I’ve been told that I am beautiful, and sometimes I believe it
Mostly I get lost in my own mind
I’ve been told that I am worthy of a love beyond believing
That I can’t help but doubt most of the time
What do I do with these feelings?
What do I do with these lines?
Why am I searching for reasons to get lost in my mind?
I’ve been told that when the stars align, it’s divine constellations
But I’m tired of hearing, “honey, what’s your sign?”
I’ve been told that love is beautiful and beyond explanation
But that is only when the stars align
What do I do with these feelings?
What do I do with these lines?
Why am I searching for reasons to get lost in my mind?
To get lost in my mind
Oh, I get lost
in my mind
Nudo de raíces – Translation
I am many pieces of many places
Straight hair, big butt
Mixed languages, unknown accent
Unknown because of borders; of families; of oceans
Singing with my eyes, because I don’t know the lyrics
Singing with the body that I have allowed myself to love
Words always fail me
This uprootedness sometimes hurts
I will never be “from” somewhere – not here, nor there
I accept my life as my home.
I love, I accept. I love myself, I accept myself.
I breathe, I sing,
And I plant myself all over again.
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5. |
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How Many Hand Lyrics - The Accidentals
The hatchet’s buried, and nothing grew
But a poison skyline, deceptive blue
And we’re all frozen while the world burns
How long until we’re past the point of no return
Will you knock down walls around your guilt
How many hands
How many hands does it take
How many hands does it take to get a grip
The earth is shaking under the drill
The surface tension about to spill
The milk and honey of our own design
How long until we have to leave it all behind
And where else could we go
How many hands
How many hands does it take
How many hands does it take to get a grip
Solo
Have you forgotten all our history
We’ve hit rock bottom, the anchor’s fast
We fear the future, we can’t go back
And all around us, deceptive blue
How long until there’s not a point of view
How many hands
How many hands does it take
How many hands does it take to get a grip
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6. |
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7. |
Mark Erelli - Hollow Man
03:20
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Hollow Man
written by Mark Erelli (Hillbilly Pilgrim Music/ASCAP)
They picked another one off the vine
Scooped out the seeds in the back of his mind
Filled up his head with half-truths and lies
And put the finishing touch on the perfect disguise
They rolled out a carpet and threw a parade
Convinced everyone he had something to say
They smiled as they watched from the two-way mirror
As he told all the people what they wanted to hear
Hey, have you heard the story?
It's the same old song, same old dance
Hey, he's bound for glory
But he ain't nothing but a hollow man
Basked in the glow of the fortune and fame
Even threw the first pitch at the World Series game
He always maintained he had nothing to hide
No one ever suspected he was empty inside
Hey, he don't know what he's doing
They set him up so high, he never had a chance
Hey, you can see right through him
He ain't nothing but a hollow man
Then came the day his cover was blown
Their little Frankenstein monster got out of control
So he looked to the ones who had saved him before
Only to find that they'd changed all the locks on the doors
The press circled round with blood in their eyes
Each one wanting a piece of his tragic demise
Then they cast him aside when from glory he fell
Now he's just another bum with a story to tell
Hey, he's less than zero
The greater the height, the harder you land
Ain't it hard when you find your hero
Ain't nothing but a hollow man
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8. |
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Hayley Sabella
“Window Song”
I look outside my window
This is what I see
The world goes spinning on so fast
But it was built for me
When you look outside your window
You have a different view
Though I’ll try to understand
I am still not you
But I want to love you
I know that it’s complicated
To hold space for you
I’m listening for how to make it better
I trust the ground you walk on
I believe the words you say
Though I know that you are strong
I have never known the weight that you carry
And if I say I trust you
Then the world needs some rearranging
To hold more space for you
And I’ll do my part to change it for the better
Let’s change it for the better
Let’s change it for the better
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9. |
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Sowing Seeds
The Crane Wives
still as a lake long after the wind has gone
in the face of a thief mashing ground to mud
still as a street long after the work is done
as he gnashes his teeth, as he cuts it up
cuts it up
pure venom radiating from the signal tower
the sun's long set, and yet it's growing darker by the hour
I hope you're listening
this gale is whistling
a door broke open, and if we blink we stand to miss this
and we're all
easy fast asleep
sick on the buzz and beep
sowing the seeds we reap
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10. |
TEOA - Holy Shit
04:00
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Holy shit
Look at this mess we're in
These old men and their money
Laying waste to everything
Mother, what have they done to you?
How do they not see the damage they cannot undo?
Breaking point
We’ll flood the streets tonight
Voices rise above us
Until the beacons light
Lovers, what are we going to do?
Hold strong beside the fire
Burn bright, burn true
Someday we'll sing about something else
Someday we'll sing about something else
We can't sing about something else
Until we all can sing about something else
Burn bright, rising together
This night won’t last forever
Someday we will all sing about something else
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