the beachhouse, the light tower, the open sea
adept in the digression of equality
so sings my heart in apt abundance
let the rain drops fall on Langston Street
see this broken spirit does not move
o master of brutality
cannot you stand for some compassion
or do you not know what that means
pride and hunger pumping blood
upon man's ghastly deeds
why should those who need not fight
or walk crowded in the streets
she dreams of love's release
a pillow with a gun beneath
who deserves a warm embrace?
we can always leave this place
not part of what is not whole
yearning so much to be
accepted by the ones she knows
not knowing anyone she sees
his generation was not so lost
where did those souls deep as rivers lead
lost and apathetic nation
is there room for trouble up on that shelf?
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