The Song That Solves It All

No-one can write a song that solves it all, except for me, cause I'm the black prince. Maw yawns and we're posed to fall teeth gnash and we'll all be minced. They ain't won the war, it ain't hardly begun, but unless you want your women to be turned into whores, you'd better learn to fight, and I don't mean with guns. I mean culture's more powerful than might. I mean games are for more than fun. I mean you sing the song that they already know, you love your lover and you love your bro and into that night you don't gently go. Imma keep on callin'; I'm the storm crow. I bid ye band together, gather sage and heather, keep an eye on the weather, and do right by God. Don't worry bout whether He will spare the rod; just do the best you can, save the soul of your fellow man, and speak the clearest truth you know. Speak it from the mountain to the valley below. Open window and open door, give yourself to hope that leave you shook to the core, and make your mind able to change. Don't waste no time at no rifle range, but open the book and write the page, for the hook and the bait is the same as your rage and the starling of peace is the word of the sage. No-one can write a song that solves it all except for me, cause I'm the black prince. The pillars crumble and the capitol falls and the earth's givnto folks who remember their sins.