It might be fun to have a kid that I
He was lying banged and battered, skewered and bleeding
Talking crippled
The bias of the father runs on through the son
And
There's a down town fairy singing out "proud mary"
As she
There's blacks with knives and whites with clubs
Fighting in howard
They say he didn't have an enemy
His was a greatness
Caught between the twisted stars
The plotted lines the faulty map
That
I was up in the morning with the tv blarin'
Brush
We who have so much to you who have so
This is no time for celebration
This is no time for
Sam was lyin' in the jungle
Agent orange spread against the