by Gayl Miller
How many lies must a politician tell
Before you call him a sham?
Yes, 'n' how many nations must an empire exploit
Till you draw a line in the sand?
Yes, 'n' how many children must perish in their fires
Written off as sacrificial lambs?
The answer, my friend, ain't blowin' in their spin
You can smell their late breakin' wind.
How many times must a man play the fool
Before he opens his eyes?
Yes, 'n' how many times must men hear truth
Before they question the lies?
Yes, 'n' how long do they ignore peoples' cries
Till the last dissenting voice dies?
The answer, my friend, ain't blowin' in their spin
You can smell their late breakin' wind.
How many years can a nation exist
With all resources drained?
Yes 'n' how many people will know they're enslaved
When they prefer wearin' their chains?
Yes, 'n' how much longer will injustice prevail
Until no one remains?
The answer, my friend, ain't blowin' in their spin
Yeah, it smells -- their late breakin' wind.