Out of the madhouse and into the community at large and they're just mad that no one will house them and by them I mean the men who rant their religions at Zebra Crossings, those who shout out from soap boxes, 'stop the hunt. save the foxes'
the lion tamers roaring at traffic and looking for signals, those who shoot up, snort, those who do and don't get caught, the sneaky creaky old ones, the creepy ones with bulging eyes, the sly and the wry ones,  

We called them asylums for a reason but was it for us to gain asylum from them or for them to be protected from us?

This ain't no 1864
and this can't be no civil war,
we're too busy fighting for that.

and we ain't even Yankees