You may choose;
But your choice is one harmonica
In a marching band.

You witness dereliction,
Obtuse public officials,
You are enraged.

Around you, idiots refuse to speak up.
Laryngitis afflicts the voice of the people.
And you are the croaking,
The strained exasperation.

Hear the band? Hear the different drums?

Now listen.

Truth is a snow cone still melting and trampled.
Integrity is a little flag on a little stick,
Justice is a Cadillac and good folks waving.
The law is a thousand empty peanut shells
Exploded underfoot

And see that balloon, way up, up, up, gone?

That is the spirit of America.

– 1980 –  Denver