1972 (love field extension)

116 BPM, protest-folk rock with fast-paced narrative vocal delivery, Rolling train-beat drums, acoustic strumming, electric guitar punctuation, violin accents, harmonica fills, and a driving bassline, Urgent, journalistic vocal phrasing with clipped consonants and spoken-sung cadence, Story-driven verses with long, breathless lines, Raw, live feel; minimal reverb, 1970s Dylan protest anthem energy, socially charged, cinematic, relentless forward motion, Tambourine on backbeats, piano stabs for urgency, subtle crowd-noise texture in sections, and occasional shouted background interjections for chaotic realism, Dry vocal grit with slight tape saturation, Guitar and harmonica trade fills between vocal breaths, Final verse intensifies with doubled vocals and rising snare patterns, Arrangement feels like a live band in a small room—tight, imperfect, human, politically electric

And the papers called it trouble,
But the people called it fate…

All this was happening
In the early mornin’
Of a Wheaton
Shopping center in Maryland.
The reporter said
The hecklers were out in force.
They were quite young and for
The most part not mean,
Though three oranges,
Some pennies,
And some paper airplanes
Were hurled at the governor’s head.
But the crowd wasn’t listening,
Only chanting instead.

In the shadow of the White House,
Nobody feels safe…

Later that day in Laurel
They shot that poor governor
In his home state of Maryland.
As the crowd started screaming
The governor laid on the ground—
It only took five shots
To lay poor Wallace down.

Why do you feel like
Uncle Sam is trying to
Force you to leave
This country?
How do we know
You are who you say you are?

“Don’t you know,
They’re financing a war?
Don’t you know
They’re going down
To disrupt a peaceful convention?”

Now they’re askin’ a man on the street:
‘Governor Wallace has just been shot down.
What is your reaction?’

The man replies:
“To that? I could care less.”

Another man watchin’,
His rhetoric said it’s so heated and divisive—
To think I was in fear
Several months ago
That something would happen to him…

They sent poor Wallace
To the hospital.
That’s where Shirley saw him
And said:

“I think you know, I know,
We have to realize that this country
Is going through a very turbulent year.
And the sooner all of us try
To get together
And recognize there’s enough room
For every person regardless of
Race, creed, or religion,
The better it’s going to be for all of us.
If not, this constant malaise
Will destroy
All of us.”

They gave him a stage and a microphone
To howl at the poor and the brown
So the rage of the broke wouldn’t turn on the throne
And tear the whole palace down

He vented the spleen of the working man
Into a river of blame
Pointed it sideways at the immigrant’s hand
While the bosses stayed safe in the game

Astroturf divide in a red-white-blue field
Divide us by color and creed
Let the scapegoat bleed so the real thieves are healed
That’s how the empire feeds

2414/7500

The crowd was shouting As he said: “Well, ladies and gentlemen, It’s a sad day In our country when You go to Washington And they say don’t walk A hundred feet from Your hotel lobby door. Don’t get on the elevator Without somebody next to ya. It’s not safe in the Shadow of the White House Or any city in these United States.” And the papers called it trouble, But the people called it fate… All this was happening In the early mornin’ Of a Wheaton Shopping center in Maryland. The reporter said The hecklers were out in force. They were quite young and for The most part not mean, Though three oranges, Some pennies, And some paper airplanes Were hurled at the governor’s head. But the crowd wasn’t listening, Only chanting instead. In the shadow of the White House, Nobody feels safe… Later that day in Laurel They shot that poor governor In his home state of Maryland. As the crowd started screaming The governor laid on the ground— It only took five shots To lay poor Wallace down. Why do you feel like Uncle Sam is trying to Force you to leave This country? How do we know You are who you say you are? “Don’t you know, They’re financing a war? Don’t you know They’re going down To disrupt a peaceful convention?” Now they’re askin’ a man on the street: ‘Governor Wallace has just been shot down. What is your reaction?’ The man replies: “To that? I could care less.” Another man watchin’, His rhetoric said it’s so heated and divisive— To think I was in fear Several months ago That something would happen to him… They sent poor Wallace To the hospital. That’s where Shirley saw him And said: “I think you know, I know, We have to realize that this country Is going through a very turbulent year. And the sooner all of us try To get together And recognize there’s enough room For every person regardless of Race, creed, or religion, The better it’s going to be for all of us. If not, this constant malaise Will destroy All of us.” They gave him a stage and a microphone To howl at the poor and the brown So the rage of the broke wouldn’t turn on the throne And tear the whole palace down He vented the spleen of the working man Into a river of blame Pointed it sideways at the immigrant’s hand While the bosses stayed safe in the game Astroturf divide in a red-white-blue field Divide us by color and creed Let the scapegoat bleed so the real thieves are healed That’s how the empire feeds

0/500