Art Is A Weapon In The Struggle

The Torture Of Being The Unseen Object, And The Constantly Observed Subject.

Smile, Jew. Dance, Jew. Tell Me You Love Me, Jew...i Got The Extermination Blues, Jewboys. I Got The Hitler Syndrome Figured

What Will Be / The Sacred Words?

Back Home The Black Women Are All Beautiful

And Now Each Night, I Count The Stars. And Each Night I Get The Same Number. And When The Stars Won't Come To Be Counted, I Count The Holes They Leave.