Gee, I always thought that these were some pretty good rock
lyrics:
Long as I remember The rain been
comin' down.
Clouds of myst'ry pourin' Confusion on the ground.
Good men
through the ages, Tryin' to find the sun;
And I wonder, Still I wonder,
Who'll stop the rain.
I went down Virginia, Seekin' shelter from the
storm.
Caught up in the fable, I watched the tower grow.
Five year plans
and new deals, Wrapped in golden chains.
And I wonder, Still I wonder, Who'll
stop the rain.
Heard the singers playin', How we cheered for more.
The
crowd had rushed together, Tryin' to keep warm.
Still the rain kept pourin',
Fallin' on my ears.
And I wonder, Still I wonder Who'll stop the
rain.
These
too:
Some folks are born
made to
wave the flag,
Ooh, they're red, white and blue.
And when the band plays
"Hail to the chief",
they point the cannon right at you.
It ain't
me,
it ain't me.
I ain't no senator's son.
It ain't me,
it ain't
me.
I ain't no fortunate one.
Some folks are born
silver spoon in
hand,
Lord don't they help themselves.
But when the tax man comes to the
door,
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale.
It ain't me,
it
ain't me.
I ain't no millionaire's son.
It ain't me,
it ain't me.
I
ain't no fortunate one.
Some folks inherit
star spangled eyes,
Ooh,
they send you down to war.
And when you ask them,
"How much should we
give?"
They only answer "More! More! More!"
It ain't me,
it ain't
me.
I ain't no military son.
It ain't me,
it ain't me.
I ain't no
fortunate one.
It ain't me,
And I like these
too:
Here in northeast Ohio, back in eighteen-o-three
James
and Dean Heaton found the ore that was linin' yellow creek
They built a blast
furnace here along the shore
And they made the cannonballs that helped the
Union win the war
Here in Youngstown, here in Youngstown
My sweet
Jenny I’m sinkin' down, here darlin' in Youngstown
Well my daddy worked
the furnaces, kept them hotter than hell
I come home from Nam worked my way
to scarfer, a job that’d suit the devil as well
Taconite coke and limestone
fed my children and made my pay
Them smokestacks reached like the arms of god
into a beautiful sky of soot and clay
Here in Youngstown, here in
Youngstown
My sweet Jenny I’m sinkin' down, here darlin' in
Youngstown
Well my daddy come home from Ohio works when he came home from
World War 2
Now the yard’s just scrap and scrubble
He said: "Them big boys
did what Hitler couldn’t do"
These mills they built the tanks and bombs that
won these country’s wars
We sent our sons to Korea and Vietnam now we’re
wonderin' what they were dyin’ for
Here in Youngstown, here in
Youngstown
My sweet Jenny I’m sinkin' down, here darlin' in
Youngstown
From the Monongahela valley to the Mesabi iron range
To the
coal mines of Appalachia the story’s always the same
Seven hundred tons of
metal a day now sir you tell me the world’s changed
Once I made you rich
enough rich enough to forget my name
And Youngstown, and Youngstown
My
sweet Jenny I’m sinkin' down, here darlin' in Youngstown
When I die I
don’t want no part of heaven, I would not do heaven’s work well
I pray
the devil comes and takes me to stand in the fiery furnaces of hell
Protest songs, one and all. Two are nearly forty years old, the
last, not so old.
Rock music has always been the voice of generations.
