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Brent Kincaid Feb 2017
You say because I am not a Christian
That means I am totally bound for Hell?
Mostly those who claim to be Christian
Behave in such a way you could never tell.

You say because I'm gay I am unnatural,
That I am surely the Devil's tool?
You're upset I am the way God made me?
The way I see it you are the fool.

You say Jews and Muslims are disgusting,
And you look to them to place all your blame.
All three religions are the followers of Abraham,
And much of what they believe is the same.

You say women are possessions like cattle
And are required to walk three steps behind.
If You agree to treat people like chattel
You can't expect others to be blind.

Almost all religions agree on one thing,
Stealing is a basic kind of sin.
But if you use your money to bribe people off
It's not a righteous life you're living in.

You say you want America back
Exactly he way it used to be
Back when women had no rights
And we based our wealth on slavery?

You say you believe all men should
Be free, with inalienable rights?
But some of them should not vote
Or even be allowed out at night?

You say you retain the right to decide
Who gets to do what and where?
Read that to me in the Constitution.
I don’t remember it being there.
Brent Kincaid Feb 2017
Pretending while the rest of us are descending
Into the legislative hell you love so well.
Tough *****, DC City,
You get no sympathy from me.
Half the country is on drugs, and you’re all smug.
******* clowns, I hope you all go down.
Tough *****, DC City,
You don’t much impress me.

You sold your souls to the big money creeps
And soon you won’t be able to sleep.
You are finding out the old saying is true;
You are judged by the company you keep.
And you’re keeping company with half-bright thugs
And ugly fat cats with purely evil souls
You value wealth more than suffering people.
You’re those without compassion on the whole.

You think if you lie often enough we’ll believe
Sadly that sometimes truns out true.
Tough *****, DC City,
Your fingers are sticky as glue.
The people may burn your mansions down.
See if your bribes protect you then.
Tough *****, DC City,
I hope the good people jail you.

I wish I could hold back paying my taxes
Just like you rich people manage to do.
Tough *****, DC City,
I’d laugh as you tumble.
When your corrupt regime falls apart
You’ll want us to rescue all of  you.
Tough *****, DC City,
I’ll sit back and watch things crumble.
Brent Kincaid Feb 2017
Into the dust of Mojave
On a blow-away afternoon
Wandered a traveling stranger
To the highway truck stop saloon.
Taking a seat by the window
His back to the hot blowing wind
You could tell by his face he was grateful
To be out of the sun once again.

And those desert breezes call him
When he is all alone
Ask him where he’s going
He is going home.
Mysterious sandy traces lead him
Along a distant track.
Home is out there waiting
And he is going back.

Then a laugh floated up from the corner
Where the stranger had recently been.
Except for the glass he had emptied
The booth was practically clean.
Out on the road he was walking
His back to the sweltering town.
His car was still parked at the truck stop
But the stranger did not turn around.

And those desert breezes call him
When he is all alone
Ask him where he’s going
He is going home.
Mysterious sandy traces lead him
Along a distant track.
Home is out there waiting
And he is going back.
Yes, my wonderful fans, there are lyrics to a song I wrote in the seventies.
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
Our future would be nicer
If he wasn't such a liar
At least could play the role
And be less politician
And less a bad magician
If he only had a soul.

He’s drunk with his power
Which is growing by the hour
He’s really on a roll.
He believes he is king
And we don’t mean a thing
Because he has no soul.

He has voters he can step on
Now we’ve given him a weapon
It was obvious in the polls
So many to ****
Destroying them at will
Like a creature with no soul.

Now his approval is sagging
His supporters are gagging
As they try swallowing him whole.
He’s sure none can top him
And no one can stop him
Because he has no soul.

He won’t be satisfied
’Till all Democrats have died
Or get by shoveling coal.
We’d appeal to his heart
If he had one at the start
And if he only had a soul.
Sing along, folks. You know the tune, you just never knew the words until I re-wrote them. Modernized, as it were.
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
I call my shoes doxies
'Cause they really get around
Just like the hookers
In the sleaziest part of town.
They started out rather nice
But now they show their years.
They look so much better
After you’ve had a couple beers.

Come with me, Doxies.
Let's us take us a stroll
To a cheap bar I know.
Not much money in my roll.
I need to meet the kind of gal
Who won't look at my feet
And think I am cool enough
To wink at her on the street.

I still have some swagger left
From when my shoes were new,
And I can still bust some moves
With a fancy step or two.
The shine on my Doxies has not
Stayed as they were long ago
But I'm sure they'll serve me well
For maybe another year or so.

My Doxies are a bit beat up,
But still they have some verve;
Just enough class that we
Can throw a hot babe a curve.
So don't look down on my Doxies;
They're the only shoes I've got.
They get me where I need to go
And I really like them a lot.
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
I want to be where people love each other
Where trust is the way things are.
I want to practice everything I preach;
Learn to love folks for who they are.
I want to get up and be very glad I’m here
That I have food and clothes and shoes.
I want to sing praises for the life I lead
And to replace everything I use.

I want to see all the people that I know
And let them know I cherish all of them.
I want to consider thoroughly before I speak
And not insist people follow my whims.
I want to hear all the music the world plays
And sing along when I know the words.
I want to share with the people I know
Every helpful thing I've ever heard.

I want to laugh every day and not be sad
Unless some poor soul I know is hurt.
I want to contribute to make things better
Even if in the end I lose my shirt.
I want to be strong enough to speak up
If someone is trying to tell lies
To take things from those that own
And the victims don’t even realize.

I’m going to raise my voice and celebrate
When the downtrodden manages to win.
I will applaud and shout “Good for you!”
If they trip, say “Get up and try again!”
I want a world when money is not
The final word in every dispute.
I want to know there is no one who says,
“You must do what I say or I’ill shoot!
Brent Kincaid Jan 2017
They listen to the ruses
Use them as excuses
For staying home and getting fat
They ***** because they’re poor
And never open the door
More than to let in the cat.

It’s a quiet existence
If you offer no resistance
When they take your rights away.
The feds commit crimes
But you get to work on time
And limp along with half your pay.

It’s a scary kind of game.
You say you know who to blame
Because you choose to ignore the facts.
You continue half blind;
You have made up your mind
No matter how the one you chose acts.

Regardless how we shout
You vote the other guy out
And leave the crooks to do their worst.
If you actually research
And quit quoting your church
You can make the right choice first.

Instead you and I suffer
And freedom stutters
Because of those who know little.
Then those who study
Get ******* by somebody
Who punishes right left and middle.

Because we are no longer
The wise, the good, the stronger
But the biggest bullies on the block.
We had things headed right
Then, in the middle of the night
You lazies hit liberty in the head with a rock.
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