Column Left March

The sheriff at high noon cries out in lonely solitude not to forsake him; But no one comes, and the vocal majority makes their plans to protect personal wealth Standing alone against all odds, the sheriff in defense of law and order fears; That all hope may soon come to a brutal end. The beat of the drum is strong and the rhymes go on; And the young men emulate their uncle who shuffles cards; in the house of capitol gain; So they chose to take what they want by trick or trade; They see the yoke of injustice baring the mark of their people who’ve worn it so long And Batman and rat girl there in a tree; It looks like they’re kissing from where I can see. What is it you ask that I’m trying to do, I wouldn’t know, I haven’t a clue. So pour me a drink or give me a pill, I really don’t know and I doubt that I will.