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We've got to stand a little closer to |
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what it is we're leaning on, |
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Who was it that first said it? |
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Could it be he could be wrong |
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about the pilgrims and the natives |
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having dinner on the lawn? |
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I think if I was ever king |
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I'd buy a censorship where the only books |
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upon the shelves were the ones |
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that I had read. Open 'em up at borders, |
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send my photo down the spine to tell |
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the story of the living |
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without forgetting those who died. |
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And I would die a happy man 'cause |
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I did the best that I could do |
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to find a better way of leavin' should |
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we leave that up to you. |
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Who was it that first said it? |
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Yea, the one who said it best: |
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you've got to L-O-V-E your neighbors, |
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at least the ones who are still left! |
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We've got to stand a little closer |
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to the lessons that we've learned, |
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is it just a premonition, |
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could we really get ourselves (?) |
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I've been sent here on a mission to find |
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what we agreed upon- |
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we don't agree about September, |
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can we agree on Vietnam? |
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I think if I was ever a publisher, |
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I'd buy a pirate ship |
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where the mission at each position |
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is to shoot and to (?) |
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clean the photos up a little, |
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censor the ship out of it so |
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I would put it up at borders, |
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turn a profit on my trip. |
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Charge the public for the overhead of 1492, |
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and if they need a better reason |
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tell 'em we got living proof. |
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And I would die a happy man 'cause |
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I did the best that I could do |
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to find a better way of leavin' |
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should we leave that up to you. |
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Who was it that first said it, yea, |
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that's what I'm trying to say, |
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you've got to L-O-V-E your neighbors, |
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at least the ones who live today. |
