Chapter Eighty-One

[ to the tune "Helpless" by Neil Young ]

                           There is a land called America
                           Where great wealth and fortune abound
                           Over a million have more than three tv's
                           While homeless folk sleep on the ground
                           There is a congress in America
                           Whose pursuit of power has no end
                           They vote to screw the common workingman
                           While pretending to be our friend

                           Leave us homeless, homeless, homeless
                           Can anyone hear us when we cry?
                           Leave us homeless, homeless, homeless
                           Does anyone care if we live or die?

                           There are some leaders in America
                           Who can't see the forest or the trees
                           They intend to rape whatever is left to rape
                           Let the corporate gods do as they please
                           Rather than use the people's hard-earned tax
                           To fund new jobs and cover our health
                           They wage war and put lasers in the sky
                           To up the total of the war-machine wealth

                           Leave us homeless, homeless, homeless
                           Man on the moon, will you drown in blood?
                           Leave us homeless, homeless, homeless
                           Will we survive Armageddon's flood?

                           There is a church in America
                           Coalition religon of cancer sore
                           They're too busy carrying abortion signs
                           To lend a hand to the sick and poor
                           Singing praises to their stain-glass god
                           They pass the plate for us to fill
                           Opposing plans to help all those in need
                           They vote for thieves of Capitol Hill

                           Leave us homeless, homeless, homeless
                           Man on the white horse, can you hear us when we call?
                           Leave us homeless, homeless, homeless
                           Will America survive or will she fall?

                           Leave us helpless, helpless, helpless . . . *

America's Second Harvest

Bridge School       Dream Foundation

Union of Concerned Scientists       Tides

The Stephen Stills Children's Music Project

United States Homeless Statistics

DEDICATED TO:  Bridge School and the Neil Young Family---long may you run. Also dedicated to  David Crosby, Stephen Stills & Graham Nash; may We The People "stand and be counted" until our American dream sees daylight once again.

*FootNote:  Inspired by the collected works of Neil Young.  A friend was discussing the songs of Mr. Young with the author one day when we realized that both of us had independently arrived at the same conclusion:  At first listen, an individual song of Mr. Young's is generally interesting and pleasant to hear, yet it doesn't seem to say a whole lot, at least not in any kind of obvious and 'preachy' sort of way.  But if one listens to the collected works of Neil Young, between the grooves emerges practically everything that matters regarding the cause of Human and Civil Rights; concern for the poor, respect for the farmer and working-class, reverence for the environment, respect and empathy for the American Indian Nations, Human Rights, Civil Rights, women's rights and in particular, individual respect, worth and freedom. There are would-be poets who attend expensive universities and seminars to fine-tune their often feeble attempts at art and there are poets whose lyric emit longings of the soul and heart, which such talent cannot be purchased with silver or gold, nor taught by a professor of rhyme.  One has to travel a long way to find a better example of the latter type of poet than Neil Young. . .  Perhaps, as far back as the heart of King David himself.


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Copyright © August 20th, 2003 by Richard Aberdeen.

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