There’s violence in suburbia

Passed out like candy and ecstasy

There is pain in here

Between the sidewalk cracks

Under cigarette buds

In the coffee pots

The pain of the world

That We just don’t know

The pain of the world

Filtered and processed by tv shows

And it’s sex

And sex

And death

And hate

And murder

And rape

And bombs

And sons and moms

And daughters are dead

Somebody’s daughters

Somebody’s friend

And you didn’t care about Vietnam until it was in your living room

And you don’t want to go on because this is about you

You slow your car when the policeman’s there

And otherwise you do not care

There’s famine somewhere out there

Wouldn’t you like to know?

Sipping your starbucks

Having your lawn mowed

You’ll find a pill for it

Pills for the curse of affluence

For the non-prostitutes, for the non-heroin addicts, for

the non-sex-slaves, for the non-child soldiers, for the non-mothers, for the

non-dead, for the non-casualties, for the non-starving and well fed, for the

non-Aids patients, for the non-cancer patients, and the non-sufferers, for the

non-helpless, and the non-poor, for the non-sick, and the non-jews, for the

non-gays, for the non-raped, for the non-brained, for the non-real, for the

make believe, for the Hollywood and plasticine people in suvs