by Raymond Nat Turner
Bomb 'em to stone man
Free-fire zone man
Jim Jones man
Villain called Drone Man
Wrong Song In The Key Of Death
(Call The Villain)
by Raymond Nat Turner
Flaming grooves burning lard off
Drumsticks and gyrating boo-tays;
Lush chords working their ways
Through Jazz clubs and churches;
Melodies reeling ribbons in from
The sky---Genius of the giant,
Master Blaster, Sir Duke of our times!
But picking politicians,Stevie's either a
Dupe, dope, dunce or dilettante played
By star-spangled charlatans---corporatists
Cloaked in Populist cotton, like Chippendale
Dancers wearing suicide vests, Senors signed,
Sealed and delivered to celebrity-worshipers by the 1%:
Like a relatively unknown man
A hugely overblown man
A corporate grown man
Political clone man
Like a Skull & Bone man
A Rhine-stone man
Testosterone man
Bellicose tone man
Bomb 'em to stone man
Free-fire zone man
Jim Jones man
Villain called Drone Man
Call the villain Drone Man
Call the villain Drone Man...
Raymond Nat Turner (c) 2012 All Rights Reserved
Anyone feeling the need to defend Baltimore from Trump’s opinions ought to talk about what really ails that city.
Black people are not obligated to defend opportunists and servants of white capital in Baltimore just because they were called out by Trump.
Seymour Hersh has been right about some of the biggest stories of our times, and he thinks the DNC email theft was an inside job.
The con of diversity is all that distinguishes Democratic Party elites and white feminists from the big Orange Menace in the White House.
Wait! Call the Cream Team— Dershbag’s a lawyer, Slick Willy’s a lawyer— Wait! Before you suicide the accused Serial pedophile predator
