Be Afraid
Of the
people over here
And the people over there,
The dark-skinned mother,
And your own blood
brother,
Of the red
In
your bed,
And
people everywhere.
Be afraid
Of your shadow
And kids in Colorado
Who might be packing
guns,
Of the man
with the beard
And
people looking weird,
Of
the graveyard ghosts
And
the people on the Coast,
Be
afraid of the nuns!
Be afraid
Of the short and afraid of the tall,
Of just about any damn one at
all
Who doesn’t look like
you,
And doesn’t
cook like you,
Doesn’t
drink like you,
And
doesn’t think like you.
Trust only in the
Lord,
And the brute in the suit
Pointing his finger
At the people over
there,
And the
people over here
At
the straight and the queer
And
people everywhere,
Telling
you
Ya
gotta,
Ya
gotta
Ya gotta be afraid,
Ya gotta be
afraid,
Ya
gotta be very, very afraid.
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