A protest song is a song that's so specific that you cannot mistake it for bullshit.
Comfort his family with a telegram, we regret to inform you we lost a man, but we gave him the highest medal of the land.
One legged veterans will greet the dawn, and they're whistling marches as they mow the lawn, and the gargoyles on sit and grieve.
The final story, the final chapter of Western man, I believe, lies in Los Angeles.
Only as strong as our love for this land, only as tall as we stand.
And if there's any hope for America, it lies in a revolution, and if there's any hope for a revolution in America, it lies in getting Elvis Presley to become Che Guevara.