Those who banded together to fight a common foe,
Who dared to oppose the juggernaut of fascism,
Had the righteous glory,
Had the triumphant passion within them.
Those who boldly marched into the grim lines
Of helmeted warriors that day in Selma
United to slay the hydra of bigotry and ignorance,
Knew the sweeping scope of a vision,
Knew the inevitable destiny within themselves.
Those who assembled to decry the outrages
Perpetrated against humanity by LBJ and napalm,
Against the resentment and bayonets of the Establishment,
Had the zealous fires,
Had the fighting spirit within them.

And now,
We who were weaned upon carcinogenic screens,
We who would gladly sign away our souls
For a corporate profit-sharing plan,
Casually sacrifice our minds upon the altar of security.
We who have inherited a tradition
Of moral outrage and organized rebellion,
Have forsaken our legacy,
Have relinquished our birthrights.
We have allowed ourselves to be deceived
By the blatant lies of mendacious politicians,
Soothing our consciences with materialistic placebos
Touted by ratings-conscious hucksters,
Ignoring the truth as best we can.
We are the children of Novocain,
Slaves to that clamoring god called Mammon,
Lotus eaters forever trapped in the corrosive apathy
Gradually ingested over the source of a lifetime.
We are the children of Novocain.
We have no glory, no passion,
No dreams, no vision within ourselves.
We are the children of Novocain:
We, who have neither prayer, nor prophet.

mid-1980s

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