Behind My Distant Stare

I’m finna ride with the workers
Until my last breath,
Until the final drop of blood
Dries on the pavement,
Until my memory is
All that remains.
Because,
Behind my distant stare,
Behind my painted smile,
There lies a passion for liberation
So hot,
That all the napalm dropped
on Viet Nam
Will pale in comparison,
And when I turn to you, Sam,
You will burn.

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