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The Mirror
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King Swamp
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1
This is the story of an American hero,
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Born in the ghetto in poverty,
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Taken in by the white man, cleaned up, given a home,
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Became the salvation of every modern mother's son.
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Worked in a factory, worked on the land,
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Steel work and dust bowl dirt staining his hand,
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Shot down in Memphis, Iwo Jima made me a man,
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Now I gotta look in some comic book,
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Just to find out who I am.
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IT HURTS,
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CAN'T YOU SEE ME BLEED.
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IT HURTS,
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CAN'T YOU FEEL THE NEED,
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THESE FLOWERS OF EVIL
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AND THESE GODS WITHOUT GRACE,
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YOU TOOK THE MIRROR,
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NOW YOU'RE PUSHING IT IN MY FACE.
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It's the American way into the twenty first century,
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It rides a motorbike alone down the interstate,
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It wears dark glasses and dates thin girls,
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Uses strong arm tactics all around the world,
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It's the noble savage at the edge of the forest
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With Oedipus eyes and Icarus wings,
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It's a Soul Train coming, it's savage and keen,
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And it's spitting Coca-Cola from the barrel of an M16.
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IT HURTS,
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CAN'T YOU SEE ME BLEED.
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IT HURTS,
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CAN'T YOU FEEL THE NEED,
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THESE FLOWERS OF EVIL
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AND THESE GODS WITHOUT GRACE,
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YOU TOOK THE MIRROR,
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NOW YOU'RE PUSHING IT IN MY FACE.
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