01-22-2008, 09:48 PM
Something I sent to DU-Watch a while ago.
Quote:
I followed a suggestion found in a great 9/11 article I was reading
today. I looked up the words to the Bob Dylan song Masters of War. As
usual, Dylan's simple but profound poetry sent shivers through my body
several times before I finished reading. I'd like to share it, because
sometimes our memory fails us, and we forget how much we really do
care. It seems to me that now is the time for an unstoppable wave of
action on the issue of depleted uranium. It's all going to break soon
- all the atrocities piled upon war crimes wrapped in the flags that
we honour are going to come pouring forth into a global sense of grim
admission that the worst of our fears are basically all true. We,
sadly, are a species that is ill-equipped to defend itself from evil.
Perhaps it is because evil puzzles us, for we are all good people, the
meek, as the Bible called us. I think before they inherit the earth,
they need to rise up.
Just listen to Bob.
Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks
You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly
Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain
You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud
You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins
How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do
Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul
And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead
today. I looked up the words to the Bob Dylan song Masters of War. As
usual, Dylan's simple but profound poetry sent shivers through my body
several times before I finished reading. I'd like to share it, because
sometimes our memory fails us, and we forget how much we really do
care. It seems to me that now is the time for an unstoppable wave of
action on the issue of depleted uranium. It's all going to break soon
- all the atrocities piled upon war crimes wrapped in the flags that
we honour are going to come pouring forth into a global sense of grim
admission that the worst of our fears are basically all true. We,
sadly, are a species that is ill-equipped to defend itself from evil.
Perhaps it is because evil puzzles us, for we are all good people, the
meek, as the Bible called us. I think before they inherit the earth,
they need to rise up.
Just listen to Bob.
Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks
You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly
Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain
You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud
You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins
How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do
Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul
And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead