America (Album Version|Explicit)

America

America I've given you all and now I'm nothing

America two dollars and twenty seven cents January 17 1956

I can't stand my own mind

America when will we end the human war

Go f**k yourself with your atom bomb

I don't feel good don't bother me

I won't write my poem till I'm in my right mind

America when will you be angelic

When will you take off your clothes

When will you look at yourself through the grave

When will you be worthy of your million Trotskyites

America why are your libraries full of tears

America when will you send your eggs to India

I'm sick of your insane demands

When can I go into the supermarke

And buy what I need with my good looks

America after all it is you

And I who are perfect not the next world

Your machinery is too much for me

You made me want to be a saint

There must be some other way to settle this argument

Burroughs is in Tangiers

I don't think he'll come back it's sinister

Are you being sinister

Or is this some form of practical joke

I'm trying to come to the point

I refuse to give up my obsession

America stop pushing

I know what I'm doing

America the plum blossoms are falling

I haven't read the newspapers for months

Everyday somebody goes on trial for murder

America I feel sentimental about the Wobblies

America I used to be a communist

When I was a kid

I'm not sorry

I smoke m*******a every chance I get

I sit in my house for days on end

And stare at the roses in the closet

When I go to Chinatown I get drunk

And never get laid

My mind is made up there's going to be trouble

You should have seen me reading Marx

I have mystical visions and cosmic vibrations

America I still haven't told you

What you did to Uncle Max

After he came over from Russia

I'm addressing you

Are you going to let your emotional life

Be run by Time Magazine

I'm obsessed by Time Magazine

I read it every week

Its cover stares at me every time

I slink past the corner candystore

I read it in the basement

Of the Berkeley Public Library

It's always telling me about responsibility

Businessmen are serious

Movie producers are serious

Everybody's serious but me

It occurs to me that I am America

I am talking to myself again

Asia is rising against me

I haven't got a Chinaman's chance

I'd better consider my national resources

My national resources consist of

Two joints of marijuana

Millions of genitals

An unpublishable private literature that goes 1400mph

And twenty five thousand mental institutions

I say nothing about my prisons

Nor the millions of underprivileged

Who live in my flowerpots

Under the light of five hundred suns

I have ready abolished the whorehouses of France

Tangiers is the next to go

My ambition is to be President despite

The fact that I'm a Catholic

America how can I write a holy litany

In your silly mood

I will continue like Henry Ford

My strophes are as individual

As his automobiles

More so they're all different sexes

America I will sell you strophes 2500 apiece

500 dollars down on your old strophe

America free Tom Mooney

America save the Spanish Loyalists

America Sacco and Vanzetti must not die

I am the Scottsboro Boys

America when I was seven mama

Took me to Communist cell meetings

They sold us garbanzos

A handful per ticket

A ticket costs a nickel

And the speeches were free

Everybody was angelic

And sentimental about the workers

It was all so sincere you have no idea

What a good thing the party was in 1835

Scott Nearing was a grand old man

A real mensch

Mother Bloor made me cry

I once saw Israel Amter playing

Everybody must have been a spy

America you don't really want to go to war

America it's them bad Russians

Them Russians them Russians

And them Chinamen

And them Russians

The Russia wants to eat us alive

The Russia's power mad

She wants to take our cars from out our garages

Her wants to grab Chicago

Her needs a Red Readers' Digestses

Her wants our auto plants in Siberia

Him big bureaucracy running our fillingstations

That no good Ugh

Him make Indian learn read

Him need big black niggers ah

Her make us all work sixteen hours a day Help

America this is quite serious

America this is the impression

I get from looking in a television set

America is this correct

I'd better get right down to the job

It's true I don't want to join the Army

Or turn lathes in precision parts factories

I'm nearsighted and psychopathic anyway

America I'm putting my queer shoulder to the wheel

America - Allen Ginsberg