Down on the Ground - Wayne Kramer

My brothers and i rolled out from detroit

Down to chicago to join in the fight

It’s the kind of shit that we did all the time

Play for the people and don’t make a dime.

It’s high time, it’s a high crime.

Allen ginsberg’s chanting om

Burroughs and mailer just couldn’t stay home

Blood ran cold and tension’s thick

My head get cracked by a cop’s nightstick.

Bad sign on the front line.

And i play my guitar, and the beat comes down

On a beautiful cosmic siren sound

And no one’s laughing, there is no joy

Down here on the ground.

Choppers are thumping, trying to drown my sound

And i’m blasting feedback, spraying the crowd

It’s a war on hate, we’re smashing the state

At the siege of chicago back in sixtyeight.

Didn’t look good, it had a bad feel

I was high on that hashish brownie meal

The action spilled to the streets of oldtown

Some threw rocks and others just threw down.

Was agit-prop in application

Whole world is watching

We’re shocking the nation.