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Yes,
Us people are just poems
We're ninety percent metaphor
With a leanness of meaning
Approaching hyper-distillation
And once upon a time
We were moonshine
Rushing down the throat of a giraffe
Yes, rushing down the long hallway
Despite what the p.a. announcement says
Yes, rushing down the long hall
Down the long stairs
In a building so tall
That it will always be there
Yes, it's part of a pair
There on the bow of Noah's ark
The most prestigious couple
Just kickin' back parked
Against a perfectly blue sky
On a morning beatific
In its Indian summer breeze
On the day that America
Fell to its knees
After strutting around for a century
Without saying thank you
Or please
And the shock was subsonic
And the smoke was deafening
Between the setup and the punch line
Cause we were all on time for work that day
We all boarded that plane for to fly
And then while the fires were raging
We all climbed up on the window sill
And then we all held hands
And jumped into the sky
And every borough looked up when it heard the first blast
And then every dumb action movie was summarily surpassed
And the exodus uptown by foot and motorcar
Looked more like war than anything I've seen so far
So far
So far
So fierce and ingenious
A poetic specter so far gone
That every jackass newscaster was struck dumb and stumbling
Over 'oh my god' and 'this is unbelievable' and on and on
And I'll tell you what, while we're at it
You can keep the pentagon
Keep the propaganda
Keep each and every tv
That's been trying to convince me
To participate
In some prep school punk's plan to perpetuate retribution
Perpetuate retribution
Even as the blue toxic smoke of our lesson in retribution
Is still hanging in the air
And there's ash on our shoes
And there's ash in our hair
And there's a fine silt on every mantle
From hell's kitchen to Brooklyn
And the streets are full of stories
Sudden twists and near misses
And soon every open bar is crammed to the rafters
With tales of narrowly averted disasters
And the whiskey is flowin'
Like never before
As all over the country
Folks just shake their heads
And pour
So here's a toast to all the folks that live in Palestine, Afghanistan,
Iraq, El Salvador
Here's a toast to the folks living on the pine ridge reservation
Under the stone cold gaze of Mt. Rushmore
Here's a toast to all those nurses and doctors
Who daily provide women with a choice
Who stand down a threat the size of Oklahoma City
Just to listen to a young woman's voice
Here's a toast to all the folks on death row right now
Awaiting the executioner's guillotine
Who are shackled there with dread and can only escape into their heads
To find peace in the form of a dream, peace in the form of a dream
Cause take away our PlayStations
And we are a third world nation
Under the thumb of some blue blood royal son
Who stole the oval office and that phony election
I mean
It don't take a weatherman
To look around and see the weather
Jeb said he'd deliver Florida, folks
And boy did he ever
And we hold these truths to be self evident:
Number one, George W. Bush is not president
Number two, America is not a true democracy
Number three, the media is not fooling me
Cause I am a poem heeding hyper-distillation
I've got no room for a lie so verbose
I'm looking out over my whole human family
And I'm raising my glass in a toast
Here's to our last drink of fossil fuels
May we vow to get off of this sauce
Shoo away the swarms of commuter planes
And find that train ticket we lost
Cause once upon a time the line followed the river
And peeked into all the backyards
And the laundry was waving
The graffiti was teasing us
From brick walls and bridges
We were rolling over ridges
Through valleys
Under stars
I dream of touring like Duke Ellington
In my own railroad car
I dream of waiting on the tall blond wooden benches
In a grand station aglow with grace
And then standing out on the platform
And feeling the air on my face
Give back the night its distant whistle
Give the darkness back its soul
Give the big oil companies the finger finally
And relearn how to rock-n-roll
Yes, the lessons are all around us and the truth is waiting there
So it's time to pick through the rubble, clean the streets
And clear the air
Get our government to pull its big dick out of the sand
Of someone else's desert
Put it back in its pants
And quit the hypocritical chants of
Freedom forever
Cause when one lone phone rang
In two thousand and one
At ten after nine
On nine one one
Which is the number we all called
When that lone phone rang right off the wall
Right off our desk and down the long hall
Down the long stairs
In a building so tall
That the whole world turned
Just to watch it fall
And while we're at it
Remember the first time around?
The bomb?
The Ryder truck?
The parking garage?
The princess that didn't even feel the pea?
Remember joking around in our apartment on Avenue D?
Can you imagine how many paper coffee cups would have to change their design
Following a fantastical reversal of the New York skyline?!
It was a joke
At the time
And that was just a few years ago
So let the record show
That the FBI was all over that case
That the plot was obvious and in everybody's face
And scoping that scene
Religiously
The CIA
Or is it KGB?
Committing countless crimes against humanity
With this kind of eventuality
As its excuse
For abuse after expensive abuse
And it didn't have a clue
Look, another window to see through
Way up here
On the hundredth and fourth floor
Look
Another key
Another door
Ten percent literal
Ninety percent metaphor
Three thousand some poems disguised as people
On an almost too perfect day
Must be more than pawns
In some asshole's passion play
So now it's your job
And it's my job
To make it that way
To make sure they didn't die in vain
Ssh
Baby listen
Hear the train?
Us people are just poems
We're ninety percent metaphor
With a leanness of meaning
Approaching hyper-distillation
And once upon a time
We were moonshine
Rushing down the throat of a giraffe
Yes, rushing down the long hallway
Despite what the p.a. announcement says
Yes, rushing down the long hall
Down the long stairs
In a building so tall
That it will always be there
Yes, it's part of a pair
There on the bow of Noah's ark
The most prestigious couple
Just kickin' back parked
Against a perfectly blue sky
On a morning beatific
In its Indian summer breeze
On the day that America
Fell to its knees
After strutting around for a century
Without saying thank you
Or please
And the shock was subsonic
And the smoke was deafening
Between the setup and the punch line
Cause we were all on time for work that day
We all boarded that plane for to fly
And then while the fires were raging
We all climbed up on the window sill
And then we all held hands
And jumped into the sky
And every borough looked up when it heard the first blast
And then every dumb action movie was summarily surpassed
And the exodus uptown by foot and motorcar
Looked more like war than anything I've seen so far
So far
So far
So fierce and ingenious
A poetic specter so far gone
That every jackass newscaster was struck dumb and stumbling
Over 'oh my god' and 'this is unbelievable' and on and on
And I'll tell you what, while we're at it
You can keep the pentagon
Keep the propaganda
Keep each and every tv
That's been trying to convince me
To participate
In some prep school punk's plan to perpetuate retribution
Perpetuate retribution
Even as the blue toxic smoke of our lesson in retribution
Is still hanging in the air
And there's ash on our shoes
And there's ash in our hair
And there's a fine silt on every mantle
From hell's kitchen to Brooklyn
And the streets are full of stories
Sudden twists and near misses
And soon every open bar is crammed to the rafters
With tales of narrowly averted disasters
And the whiskey is flowin'
Like never before
As all over the country
Folks just shake their heads
And pour
So here's a toast to all the folks that live in Palestine, Afghanistan,
Iraq, El Salvador
Here's a toast to the folks living on the pine ridge reservation
Under the stone cold gaze of Mt. Rushmore
Here's a toast to all those nurses and doctors
Who daily provide women with a choice
Who stand down a threat the size of Oklahoma City
Just to listen to a young woman's voice
Here's a toast to all the folks on death row right now
Awaiting the executioner's guillotine
Who are shackled there with dread and can only escape into their heads
To find peace in the form of a dream, peace in the form of a dream
Cause take away our PlayStations
And we are a third world nation
Under the thumb of some blue blood royal son
Who stole the oval office and that phony election
I mean
It don't take a weatherman
To look around and see the weather
Jeb said he'd deliver Florida, folks
And boy did he ever
And we hold these truths to be self evident:
Number one, George W. Bush is not president
Number two, America is not a true democracy
Number three, the media is not fooling me
Cause I am a poem heeding hyper-distillation
I've got no room for a lie so verbose
I'm looking out over my whole human family
And I'm raising my glass in a toast
Here's to our last drink of fossil fuels
May we vow to get off of this sauce
Shoo away the swarms of commuter planes
And find that train ticket we lost
Cause once upon a time the line followed the river
And peeked into all the backyards
And the laundry was waving
The graffiti was teasing us
From brick walls and bridges
We were rolling over ridges
Through valleys
Under stars
I dream of touring like Duke Ellington
In my own railroad car
I dream of waiting on the tall blond wooden benches
In a grand station aglow with grace
And then standing out on the platform
And feeling the air on my face
Give back the night its distant whistle
Give the darkness back its soul
Give the big oil companies the finger finally
And relearn how to rock-n-roll
Yes, the lessons are all around us and the truth is waiting there
So it's time to pick through the rubble, clean the streets
And clear the air
Get our government to pull its big dick out of the sand
Of someone else's desert
Put it back in its pants
And quit the hypocritical chants of
Freedom forever
Cause when one lone phone rang
In two thousand and one
At ten after nine
On nine one one
Which is the number we all called
When that lone phone rang right off the wall
Right off our desk and down the long hall
Down the long stairs
In a building so tall
That the whole world turned
Just to watch it fall
And while we're at it
Remember the first time around?
The bomb?
The Ryder truck?
The parking garage?
The princess that didn't even feel the pea?
Remember joking around in our apartment on Avenue D?
Can you imagine how many paper coffee cups would have to change their design
Following a fantastical reversal of the New York skyline?!
It was a joke
At the time
And that was just a few years ago
So let the record show
That the FBI was all over that case
That the plot was obvious and in everybody's face
And scoping that scene
Religiously
The CIA
Or is it KGB?
Committing countless crimes against humanity
With this kind of eventuality
As its excuse
For abuse after expensive abuse
And it didn't have a clue
Look, another window to see through
Way up here
On the hundredth and fourth floor
Look
Another key
Another door
Ten percent literal
Ninety percent metaphor
Three thousand some poems disguised as people
On an almost too perfect day
Must be more than pawns
In some asshole's passion play
So now it's your job
And it's my job
To make it that way
To make sure they didn't die in vain
Ssh
Baby listen
Hear the train?
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on the live version, the music kicks in right after these lines.
"and there's a fine silt on every mantle
from hell's kitchen to brooklyn
and the streets are full of stories
sudden twists and near misses
and soon every open bar is crammed to the rafters
with tales of narrowly averted disasters
and the whiskey is flowin
like never before
as all over the country
folks just shake their heads
and pour"
and the crowd cheers and it's sooooooo perfect. it gives me chills everytime. because only Ani difranco can summon the emotion the crowd gives to her. can you imagine being her, singing this song and having a huge crowd UNDERSTAND you? and then the deep emotional feedback she gets is one of the most perfect things i have ever seen or heard in my lifetime.
and the parking garage and bomb and first time around references are about the Oklahoma city bombings with timothy mcvey. (which a lot of people here have seem to forgotten about)
the only thing i don't understand about this is the last line, about see the train.. what is she saying? she mentions trains earlier. does she think trains are better for humanity or? something. i'm stumped. could someone explain it to me?
And let's not fool ourselves, we all know that Bush stole that election. You don't have to lie anymore, it's okay we all know.
"3000 some poems disguised as people / on an almost too perfect day / should be more than pawns / in some asshole's passion play" is her brave conclusion -- which sounds great until you realize that the assholes in question, according to her, are our government. Not the assholes who actually, you know, crashed the planes into the buildings. Not once in the course of these rambling, stream-of-semiconsciousness pearls of wisdom are the terrorists themselves held accountable for their actions. In the world according to the Ani who narrates this particular song, the real problems are that (a) we use too much oil, (b) our intelligence agencies knew all along that 9/11 was about to happen and covered it up, (c) GWB stole the election, and (d) blah blah blah. Oh, and then there's (e) abortion and (f) capital punishment, and (g) more blah blah blah.
Has there ever been another political song on any side of the political spectrum that was as incoherent or as self-righteous or as self-indulgent as "Self Evident?" Even Sting and Toby Keith are sitting there going, "Wow, at least I didn't write *that*."
YES, this is Ani difrancos' point of view, you don't have to pay attention to it if you don't agree with it.
YES, alliteration is an art form. everything can be art if there's creativity and meaning behind it. "ridiculously reckless relic of propagandistic poetic pretension" is not art. because (a)propagandistic is not a word. (b) you just pushed a bunch of unnecessary words together that started with the same letter.
You didn't understand this poem. she IS blaming America for the 911 attacks, for the 2000 elections where Al Gore won the popular vote, and then Bush was elected president because of the electoral votes. (that does seem kinda fishy, doesn't it?)
Take a look at America. what are we? fat. ignorant. "self-righteous." arrogant.
She says:
"so here's a toast to all the folks who live in palestine
afghanistan
iraq
el salvador
here's a toast to the folks living on the pine ridge reservation
under the stone cold gaze of mt. rushmore
She's raising her glass to the civilians of these third world nations. she's raising her glass to the indians who live on the pine ridge reservation, (which consists of the two poorest counties in the US.) then She says earlier in the poem "we've been strutting around for a century without saying thank you, or please." Our arrogant leaders, who stole this country from the indians, then continued to take and take and involve all of us in other countries business... do you see? our country is a charade. "take away our playstations and we are a third world nation" our leaders and our media and entertainment have built us up to be this wonderful, powerful, "free" nation. but all it took was one hour to totally bring us to our knees.
Will you pull your country out of your ass, and open your eyes, and see what our leaders have gotten us into? look through the eyes of the "terrorists" and see why they despise America.
I'm not saying 9/11 was planned (i'm not saying it wasn't, either). I'm just saying the same thing Ani does in this poem; we deserved it.
Who cares about the things you're whining about? When are we all going to worry about what matters? Protecting ourselves, our brothers and our sisters of the earth that we all live on?
Who cares about the things you're whining about? When are we all going to worry about what matters? Protecting ourselves, our brothers and our sisters of the earth that we all live on?
And no, "we" DIDN'T deserve it. I think it should go without saying none of us do.
The White House needs to take a page or two out of Ani's book and fix this mess before it destroys us. The truth is self evident; everyone just needs to open their eyes.
I like the first time she did this poem the best. It was a bit different than this.
'and while we're at it
remember the first time around?
the bomb?
the ryder truck?
the parking garage?
the princess that didn't even feel the pea?'
also, the 'we don't need a weatherman' is a bob dylan reference, his song goes 'we dont need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows'
I think that "it does not take a weatherman to tell the weather" is a common phrase.