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Calling students, teachers, poets & preachers,
The straightedge & rough-around-them truth seekers,
The "too deep"-ers, those blessed with the boldness to speak
And those who express more by the quiet they keep.
Calling those who want solutions, those who pray until their knees hurt,
Those who want revolution just enough to buy a T-shirt.
It's for the homeless, the vagabonds & the phoneless,
The people thinking they already know this.
You say, "She can't be talking about us," 'cause you don't think I should, man.
Aren't you what they call a good man?
We've got love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness...
Convenience & comfort should also take precedence, right?
I'm not impressed with it, fight until the death with it;
Might be a southpaw, but I won't be left with this.
So before we get too far talking vision for changes,
I'd like for us to visualize what change is.
Maybe it's me, but it seems kinda humbling
How we lay concrete but can't keep it from crumbling.
Call me naïve, but you got me wondering
Why we got two good feet but prefer to keep stumbling.
Hey, stop--look both ways
Before crossing your heart at the end of the day.
It's not that we don't know that crime pays;
It's that someone else is cast as the criminal.
(She can't be talking about us; she's talking about them.)
'Cause, baby, you never killed nobody.
(No matter the mark, she must be trying to condemn.)
Some say that I am.
Enough--you're raising a glass
To stocking up on sympathy and hoping it lasts.
Mine's up for some people of the past,
But I'd much rather toast it to all of you.
(She really needs to give it a rest, take life as it comes.)
'Cause you're one of the good people, right?
(Gather 'round and give it our best; we'll get this done.)
But it's take twenty-one.