When The Wound/ No Longer Hurts/ The

Oh! Moon Of Alabama We Now Must Say Good-bye We've Lost Our Good Old Mama And Must Have Whiskey Oh, You Know Why!

When Crimes Begin To Pile Up They Become Invisible. When Sufferings Become Unendurable The Cries Are No Longer Heard. The Cries, Too, Fall Like Rain In Summer.

Here Today We Huddle Tight As The Darkest Heathens Might The Snow Falls Chilly On Our Skin The Snow Is Forcing Its Way In. Hush, Snow, Come In With Us To Dwell: We Were Thrown Out By Heaven As Well.

People Cannot Remain Good Unless Good Is Expected Of Them.

The Worst Illiterate Is The Political Illiterate. He Hears Nothing, Sees Nothing, Takes No Part In Political Life. He Doesn't Seem To Know That The Cost Of Living, The Price Of Beans, Of Flour, Of Rent, Of Medicines All Depend On Political Decisions. He Even Prides Himself On His Political Ignorance, Sticks Out His Chest And Says He Hates Politics. He Doesn't Know, The Imbecile, That From His Political Non-participation Comes The Prostitute, The Abandoned Child, The Robber And, Worst Of All, Corrupt Officials, The Lackeys Of Exploitative Multinational Corporations.