Ride Noble Captain
Under the gun of a moonless sky
Johnny B. Good takes a ride
Down the broken streets of time
Through this strange and twisting rhyme
“Where goes the poet tonight?”
He’s asked by the cop with the flashing lights.
“I’m going where no one goes, he replies.
I’m going to…the birthplace of lies.”
Ride noble captain to the blood of the sun
Touch the flaming embers with the tip of your tongue
Taste the fire of relentless regret
Paint your face and hands red
This time around, is anyone one left
To give voice to the pain the world is fed
Deny if you will the writing on the wall
No one cares anymore.
The wicked own it all.
Black gold drips down parched blue throats
Children cry, bodies bloat
Stomped to the ground by jack boot heels
Trampled under wheels of steel
On their knees they pray,
While lead rains down on their parade
In the sand the hide
From the iron eyes in the sky
Ride noble Captain down the boulevard
Where the white dome glistens under the sun
Where scribes ruin lives for profit and fun
And flesh-eating scorpions play in the dung
Cash in their chips wherever they fall
Scrape off the blood from the walls of their halls
Collecting the bodies from bottomless wells
Filled to the brim with the death they sell
Is anyone left to tell?
Ride noble captain into the night
Slay the darkness with words of light
Smash through this bars of broken dreams
Give hope to those who yearn to be
Free from the sorrow that suckles the breast
Of the maggot ridden mother who feeds from her nest
Free them from the yoke of the monster’s breath
There’s no turning back
The poet, dear Captain, is back
Call them to the carpet of justice my friend
Unleash the voice of the stricken, from silence
Torn flags wave over those who die
Open the eyes of the blind
Ride Captain ride.