Death is
A loaded
Gun with
A whiskey
Smile

There, just behind
The thick branches,
Are aspens, in the woods,
chatting with
The oaks and the pines

In this pouring rain
They take away our names
We march into these trains
Who are we to blame
To live in concentration camps
The light who shines is dim
We wear these cloths of death

exploring your soul
exploding full moon
expanding your eyes
sailing across
the
storybook sky
just waiting for
the
ash rose moon

Before marching
To our graves
Time leaving
Her mark
On all of us
Waiting for
Your soul to
Be saved

the road to slavery shall die
this Profitable enterprise
so full of lies
someone's property or human chattel
chained in the belly of the slave ships,
side-by-side
chained by feet and chained by hands
where
the rights of men denied
Lord, we curse the vipers,
the maggots and the flies

Brothers three
Inspires us all
So faithfully
Bobby, John and
Edward Kennedy
The dreams shall live
The spirit moves on
Hope shall not die
Brothers three
God watches
Over thee