Quaquaraqua

Weary is the head
That wears the crown of failure
It needs a ventilator
For the rage

Desperate and unstable
Tired and unable
And totally unwilling
To turn the page

You’re dead to me
Dead to me
The congregation said
For bankrupt moral lunacy
Had trickled up instead

Wake and face the day
Sun is shining out
Hope it will be better, in ‘21
All that we have lost
Hurt and paid the cost
Will never change the fact that

You’re dead to me
Dead to me
The congregation said
For bankrupt moral lunacy
Had trickled up instead

You’re dead to me
Dead to me
The flock they all agreed
You’re dead to me
Dead to me
And no one would concede

You’re dead to me, dead to me
The flock they all agreed
Still clinging to their vanity
And no one would concede

America, America
God shed her tears on thee
For purple bruised humanity
From sea to dying sea

Concede, concede, concede