SING IT, BROTHA

Tonight I've been back and forth between my Bible and my Human Rights textbook—plenty of truth and sin and good and bad stuff to question and discuss and all that jazz—and I started this whole post on it, which ended up being pretty crappy and inadequate overall. So instead of frittering away hours typing and deleting tired words, I'm just gonna let Ray LaMontagne take over. He sings it better than I can say it anyway.

"How Come"

People on the street now

Faces long and grim

Souls are feeling heavy

And faith is growing thin

Fears are getting stronger

You can Feel them on the rise

Hopelessness got some by the throat you can see it in their eyes

I said how come

How come

Everybody on a shoestring

Everybody in a hole

Everybody in an old jet plane

Crossing their fingers and toes

Government man spin his politics till he got you pinned

Everybody trying to reach out to each other

But they don't know where to begin

I said how come

I can't tell

the free world

from living hell

I said how come

How come

all I see

is a child of god

in misery

I said how come

The pistol now as profit

The bullet some kind of lord and king

But pain is the only promise that this so called savior is gonna bring

Love can be a liar

And justice can be a thief

And freedom can be an empty cup from which everybody want to drink

I said how come

I can't tell

the free world

from living hell

I said how come

How come

all i see

is a child of god

in misery

I said how come

It's just man killing man

Killing man

Killing man

Killing man

Killing man

I don't understand

...