(Dedicated to Argentinian General Carlos Guillermo
Suarez Mason and his fellow workers)
Who are the demons and who are the damned?
Can evil reach out by just one man's command?
Who orders the suffering, organizes the death,
With malevolent innocence, of guilt bereft?
Look for a demon, some raving maniac,
Find a machine of spineless bureaucrats.
They follow regulations and never ask why
Some helpless stranger has to suffer, weep, and die.
They shuffle paper weapons and silently acquiesce
That some other hand thrusts steel into flesh.
From master to minions all hands are clean.
Even torturers but obey and must tolerate the screams.
Search for a devil, some monster maniac,
Find a whole nation who will not think or act.
(Inspired by an interview with the Argentinian general.)
Sittin' in a tin tub
Lis'nin' to the voices
Cool in the wetness
Lazy in the heat
Lis'nin to my Grandma
Fussin' with my Grandpa
How I love their voices
To me they sound so sweet
Grandma, though the screen door,
Asks me if I want more
Water or a towel or
Her to scrub my back
I sit and think about it
But I kinda doubt if
Things could be more perfect
There's nothing that I lack
Layin' in the bedroom
Window open to the gloom
Cool and clean and lazy
A fan hums at my feet
The dogs start barkin' all around
Grandpa yells to call them down
The crickets make their cricket sounds
I guess the night's complete
(I guess if I wrote music or liked contry music
this would have ended up a country song.)