Down on the Ground

My brothers and i rolled out from detroit
Down to chicago to join in the fight
It’s the kind of shit that we did all the time
Play for the people and don’t make a dime.
It’s high time, it’s a high crime.
Allen ginsberg’s chanting om
Burroughs and mailer just couldn’t stay home
Blood ran cold and tension’s thick
My head get cracked by a cop’s nightstick.
Bad sign on the front line.
And i play my guitar, and the beat comes down
On a beautiful cosmic siren sound
And no one’s laughing, there is no joy
Down here on the ground.
Choppers are thumping, trying to drown my sound
And i’m blasting feedback, spraying the crowd
It’s a war on hate, we’re smashing the state
At the siege of chicago back in sixtyeight.
Didn’t look good, it had a bad feel
I was high on that hashish brownie meal
The action spilled to the streets of oldtown
Some threw rocks and others just threw down.
Was agit-prop in application
Whole world is watching
We’re shocking the nation.