Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Down these streets the fools rule
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There's no freedom or self respect,
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A knife's point or a trip to the joint
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Is about all you can expect.
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They kill people here who stand up for their rights,
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The system's just too damned corrupt
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It's always the same, the name of the game
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Is who do you know higher up.
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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The blacks and the whites,
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The idiotic, the exotic,
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Wealth is a filthy rag
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So erotic so unpatriotic
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So wrapped up in the American flag.
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Witchcraft scum exploiting the dumb,
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Turning children into punks and slaves
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Whose heroes and healers are rich drug dealers
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Who should be put in their graves.
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Listen to me Mr. Pussyman
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This might be your last night in a bed so soft
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We're not pimps on the make, politicians on the take,
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You can't pay us off.
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We're gonna blow up your home of Voodoo
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And watch it burn without any regret
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We got the power we're the new government,
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You just don't know it yet.
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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For all of my brothers from Vietnam
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And my uncles from World War II,
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I'd like to say that it's countdown time now
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And we're gonna do what the law should do.
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And for you pretty baby,
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I know you've seen it all.
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I know your story is too painful to share.
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One day though you'll be talking in your sleep
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And when you do, I wanna be there.
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band of the hand
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Band Of The Hand (It's Hell Time Man!)
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Bob Dylan |