Democratic Underground Latest Greatest Lobby Journals Search Options Help Login
Google

“…the executioner's face is always well hidden”

Printer-friendly format Printer-friendly format
Printer-friendly format Email this thread to a friend
Printer-friendly format Bookmark this thread
This topic is archived.
Home » Discuss » Archives » General Discussion (Through 2005) Donate to DU
 
The Whiskey Priest Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Sat Apr-09-05 11:01 AM
Original message
“…the executioner's face is always well hidden”
Edited on Sat Apr-09-05 11:14 AM by The Whiskey Priest

The carts filled with the middle-class, working-class and small business owners are rumbling over the cobblestone on the way to the execution grounds. The thoroughfares over which the carts travel are lined with a cheering mob that will be in the carts tomorrow.

To the drumbeat of their leaders, the mob filled with fear and passion screaming for the blood of those meeting today’s appointment with destruction. The mob heaps praises upon the leaders for bring them that which the mob believes will save them.

Yet like the thief and bandit the mob’s leaders are only posers of salvation. The mob does not see or realize that their leaders are the agent of those hidden in the darkness, faces masked in anonymity. While the mob’s attention is focused on the moment, the immediate, shadow forces are stealing all of the mob’s tomorrows.

it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall
Printer Friendly | Permalink |  | Top
rainy Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Sat Apr-09-05 11:12 AM
Response to Original message
1. Its a hard Rain's a-gonna fall
Oh, where have you been, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?
I've stumbled on the side of twelve misty mountains,
I've walked and I've crawled on six crooked highways,
I've stepped in the middle of seven sad forests,
I've been out in front of a dozen dead oceans,
I've been ten thousand miles in the mouth of a graveyard,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, and it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what did you see, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what did you see, my darling young one?
I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves all around it
I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it,
I saw a black branch with blood that kept drippin',
I saw a room full of men with their hammers a-bleedin',
I saw a white ladder all covered with water,
I saw ten thousand talkers whose tongues were all broken,
I saw guns and sharp swords in the hands of young children,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

And what did you hear, my blue-eyed son?
And what did you hear, my darling young one?
I heard the sound of a thunder, it roared out a warnin',
Heard the roar of a wave that could drown the whole world,
Heard one hundred drummers whose hands were a-blazin',
Heard ten thousand whisperin' and nobody listenin',
Heard one person starve, I heard many people laughin',
Heard the song of a poet who died in the gutter,
Heard the sound of a clown who cried in the alley,
And it's a hard, and it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
And it's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, who did you meet, my blue-eyed son?
Who did you meet, my darling young one?
I met a young child beside a dead pony,
I met a white man who walked a black dog,
I met a young woman whose body was burning,
I met a young girl, she gave me a rainbow,
I met one man who was wounded in love,
I met another man who was wounded with hatred,
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.

Oh, what'll you do now, my blue-eyed son?
Oh, what'll you do now, my darling young one?
I'm a-goin' back out 'fore the rain starts a-fallin',
I'll walk to the depths of the deepest black forest,
Where the people are many and their hands are all empty,
Where the pellets of poison are flooding their waters,
Where the home in the valley meets the damp dirty prison,
Where the executioner's face is always well hidden,
Where hunger is ugly, where souls are forgotten,
Where black is the color, where none is the number,
And I'll tell it and think it and speak it and breathe it,
And reflect it from the mountain so all souls can see it,
Then I'll stand on the ocean until I start sinkin',
But I'll know my song well before I start singin',
And it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard, it's a hard,
It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall.



Copyright © 1963; renewed 1991 Special Rider Music
Printer Friendly | Permalink |  | Top
 
greatauntoftriplets Donating Member (1000+ posts) Send PM | Profile | Ignore Sat Apr-09-05 11:17 AM
Response to Original message
2. And the sideshows are so many....
Terri Schiavo 24/7.
The Pope 24/7.
Charles and Camilla 24/7.
Conclave 24/7.
Let's make the Pope a saint ASAP 24/7.
Michael Jackson trial 24/7.

What next to distract the people? Shark attacks?

Printer Friendly | Permalink |  | Top
 
DU AdBot (1000+ posts) Click to send private message to this author Click to view 
this author's profile Click to add 
this author to your buddy list Click to add 
this author to your Ignore list Tue Apr 30th 2024, 10:07 AM
Response to Original message
Advertisements [?]
 Top

Home » Discuss » Archives » General Discussion (Through 2005) Donate to DU

Powered by DCForum+ Version 1.1 Copyright 1997-2002 DCScripts.com
Software has been extensively modified by the DU administrators


Important Notices: By participating on this discussion board, visitors agree to abide by the rules outlined on our Rules page. Messages posted on the Democratic Underground Discussion Forums are the opinions of the individuals who post them, and do not necessarily represent the opinions of Democratic Underground, LLC.

Home  |  Discussion Forums  |  Journals |  Store  |  Donate

About DU  |  Contact Us  |  Privacy Policy

Got a message for Democratic Underground? Click here to send us a message.

© 2001 - 2011 Democratic Underground, LLC