Throwing Stones Picture a bright blue ball just spinning, spinning free Dizzy with eternity. Paint it with a skin of sky, brush in some clouds and sea Call it home for you and me. A peaceful place or so it looks from space A closer look reveals the human race. Full of hope, full of grace, is the human face. But afraid, we may our home to waste. Theres a fear down here we cant forget hasnt got a name just yet Always awake, always around singing ashes to ashes all fall down. Now watch as the ball revolves and the nighttime calls And again the hunt begins and again the bloodwind calls By and by again, the morning sun will rise But the darkness never goes from some mens eyes. It strolls the sidewalks and it rolls the streets Stalking turf, dividing up meat. Nightmare spook, piece of heat, you and me, you and me. Click, flashblade in ghetto night. Rudies looking for a fight. Rat cat alley roll them bones. Need that cash to feed that jones And the politicians throwing stones Singing ashes, ashes all fall down. Commissars and pin-striped bosses role the dice Any way they fall guess who gets to pay the price. Money green or proletarian gray, selling guns instead of food today. So the kids they dance, they shake their bones While the politicians throwing stones Singing ashes, ashes all fall down. Heartless powers try to tell us what to think If the spirits sleeping, then the flesh is ink. Historys page, it is thusly carved in stone The futures here, we are it, we are on our own. If the game is lost then were all the same No one left to place or take the blame. We will leave this place an empty stone Or this shinning ball of bule we can call our home So the kids they dance, they shake their bones While the politicians are throwing stones Singing ashes, ashes all fall down. Shipping powders back and forth Singing black goes south while white comes north And the whole world full of petty wars Singing I got mine and you got yours. And the current fashions set the pace. Lose your step, fall out of grace. And the radical he rant and rage, Singing someone got to turn the page And the rich man in his summer home, Singing Just leave well enough alone But his pants are down, his covers blown And the politicians are throwing stones So the kids they dance they shake their bones Cause its all too clear were on our own Picture a bright blue ball just spinning, spinning free Its dizzying, the possibilities. Ashes, Ashes all fall down.
Posted on: Sat, 08 Nov 2014 14:25:39 +0000
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