I Hate The White Man

Roy Harper

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    Far across the ocean
    In the land of look and see
    There once was a time
    For you and me

    Where the winds blow sweetly
    And the easy seas flow still
    And where the barefoot dream of life
    Can laugh and cry its fill

    Where slot machine confusions
    And the plastic universe
    Are objects of amusement
    In the fiction of their curse

    And where the crazy whiteman
    And his teargas happiness
    Lies dead and long since buried
    By his own fantastic mess

    For I hate the whiteman
    And his plastic excuse
    For I hate the whiteman
    And the man who turned him loose...

    And the reins of coloured thunder
    Of the stallion of the dawn
    Ride the coalfire morning
    On the beach where all is born

    Where the emperor of meaning
    Is burning up his forts
    And sits to warm his toes around
    A fire made up of useless thoughts

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    And when the children tempt him
    With the riddles of their trance
    He flings the flames of solstice
    Casting laughs into their dance

    And while a crazy whiteman
    In the desert of his bones
    Lies as bleached as the paradise
    He likes to think he owns

    And I hate the whiteman
    In his evergreen excuse
    Oh I hate the whiteman
    And the man who turned him loose...

    And far across the reaches
    Of the drifting yellow sands
    The living carpet wilderness
    Forever joins its hands

    With heaven hell's attainment
    In a surging crest of fire
    Where more than all is thrown upon
    The ever lasting pyre

    And through the countless canticles
    Of Jason's charcoal fleece
    Are sung the songs of nothing
    In the timeless masterpiece

    And there stood in the middle
    Guess who?
    It's the everlasting burst
    Built by god's very own whiteman
    As he tries to rule the dust

    And I hate the whiteman
    In his doctrinaire abuse
    Oh I hate the whiteman
    And the man who turned you all loose...

    And the bowels of his city
    Have been locked into a safe
    Where the spew stains on the sidewalks
    Are defenders of his faith

    While back inside his kitchen
    The bowler hatted, long haired saint
    Cleans with soap and water
    But it's really just white paint

    While his golden headed scandal sheets
    Present their daily bite
    To give their righteous news-bleeders
    Drugs to keep them white

    While outside in the whitewash
    Where the guns are always, always right
    A shooting star has summoned
    Its dark angel from his night

    And I hate the whiteman
    And his evergreen excuse
    Oh I hate the whiteman
    And the man who turned you all loose
    And the man who turned him loose...

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    Composición: Roy Harper

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