Ain't No Lie
I ain't saying the fire is cold or the fury is vanished, wimped out,
Chilly-willy lost, hung up, beat down, smashed, gnashed,
Dried and sighed, knocked, crocked, locked underground
OR buried in some lost and wailing ghost-hole graveyard
Stuck on the edge of a God-forsaken desert town like
Bad manners, bad vibes, old boyfriends, or dead dogs.
If I said that, I'd be lyin' — and I don't lie, cry, or fly up and out of
Conflagrations just to save my silly ass or paint and lace my face
With nice-guy, pretty-boy, kiss your butt, out of luck, help me, then
Steal your money, laugh, split, gang-bang, slam-bam bullshit rip-off —
Ain't no hypocrite, hypo-crot, rotten-tot, shoot 'em up, strip 'em down
Lyin' sonofabitch in a blue suit, white shirt, red tie —
Ain't no ice-cold dead-soul blue-eyed killer boy singin'
Peace, brotherhood and compassion on middleclass dinnertable TV
While ripping off the country, bombing uppity rebels, bashing poets,
And murdering the earth and all our furry/feathered friends just for
Power, profit, fame, sex, glory and a lot of sickening cynical laughs —
Ain't no way I've sold my soul, my pride, my balls or my fountain pen
To the goon-squad cops, political gangsters and high-priest slicksters,
Those respectable white-collar parasites and corporate vampires
Robbin' us blind, stickin' both fists full of money drippin' blood,
Rage, poverty, lost souls, busted dreams and crippled pride
Into coffers deep as gouged eyes and our aging mothers' hopeless tears.
Won't let those workaday, grind away, king 'o' the hill toady teachers,
Racist cops, sharks-&-jackal politicians, & right-wing sewer-brained
Double-faced Christian preacher-boys tell me I'm a low-life
Muthafucker who doesn't deserve to eat, breathe, live, shit or die.
Hey, I'm grey, okay — been whacked, jacked, sacked and backed against
More than one brick wall, hit, slit, kicked, bashed and trashed
A time or two or three along the way — But they didn't smash-crash
My brains or leave me broken, gnarled, tamed down, runnin' on empty.
No lie, my friend, ain't no lie — I've got a song to sing, a life to live,
A joy to offer to any and all who HAVE A BALL, whether the sun shines
And the sky is clear, OR it's dark as hell and the beer's warm,
The jukebox is dead and there's nothing left but dirty needles
And a static radio playing only lame-brained hip-hop, rap-rip rock 'n' roll.
Ain't no lie — say once, twice — you know I'm right, you know I'm right —
Keep-keep-keepin' on, keepin' on, keep-keepin' on —
And NEVER let the bastards grind you down — Ho!
