Dying A Little

Just a room made of concrete and steel to call home
There's a black man passing time call it incarceration
The cell is overcrowded with his hopes and his dreams
Trying to share a small space with his anger and his desperation
And the time that slowly passes does not heal his wounds
He's too old to start over, too young to be wasting away
His chances of succeeding in a white man's world
Are dying a little each day

The men in the laboratories said is was the right thing
To leave behind the old ways the centuries have taught us
Now the plastic and the cardboard the mototrs and the bombs
Are so quick and convenient, just look at the leisure time they've brought us
And the rains that fall do not heal the wounds
The damage has been done, the water cannot wash it all away
And the earth, poor Mother Earth is gasping for air
And dying a little each day

What's the use now in trying
To separate the living from the dying
What can I do? What can you do? What will we do
If the cost is more than we can pay

So we occupy the time and we tend our little fires
That are dying a little each day
So we occupy the time and we tend our little fires
And we're dying a little each day

(Unrecorded verse...)
Dutifully we swallow ideas from our TV's
As more and more machines are giving us instructions
With radar and computers and telephones in hand
They measure us and study all our moves and our transactions
Conclusions and decisions drawn from banks of information
Not a word does wisdom or instinct have to say
And our precious freedom to each live our own lives
Is dying a little each day


(© 1990 by Harvey Reid)

Original version recorded on #106 "Overview"

As re-released on #127 "Songs From A Long Road"