The OLD RICH WHITE MEN need your blood. Please Give Blood:

   Saul Williams, Bloodletting, ColdCutt/DJ Spooky remix:
   [1]https://youtu.be/6RdgiAXipDA
   The greatest Americans have not been born yet
   They are waiting patiently for the past to die
   Please give blood
   Those crumbled tablets were to share a story with a burning bush
   Where is that voice from nowhere to remind us that the holy ground we
   walk on, purified by native blood, has rooted trees who's fallen leaves
   now color coat a savored list of demands
   Who among us can give translation of autumn hues to morning news?
   The anchorman thrown overboard has simply rooted us in histories
   repeating cycle.
   A nation in its saddened years that wont acknowledge karma
   Where is the voice from nowhere, the ones your prophets spoke of?
   There are voices from fear disconnected from their diaphragms, dangling
   from coffee covered teeth that spill into our laps and scorch our
   privates
   There are voices from the sides of necks, some already noosed, dangling
   participles pronouns running for sentence
   Serving life in corner offices and ghetto corners, their voices are the
   same
   Dead to themselves, numb to the possibility of truth existing beyond
   that which they can palm in their hands, period
   There are voices of elders, which seem to do no more than damn us to
   our childish ways
   For in many households, wisdom no longer comes with age
   So where is that voice from nowhere, that burning bush, that passing
   dove?
   I hear the voices of generals calling for ammunition, presidents
   calling for arms, women calling for help
   Where is that voice from nowhere, that god of Abraham?
   Can he be heard over the gunfire, the whiz of passing missiles, the
   crash of buildings, the cries of children, the crack of bones, the
   shriek of sirens?
   Or is that his mighty voice?
   Your angry god craving the sacrifice of early generations sons
   degenerate
   Your holy books written in red ink on burning sands
   Your prayers between rounds do no more than fasten the fate of your
   children to the hammered truth of your trigger
   A truth that mushrooms its darkened cloud over the rest of us
   So that we too bear witness to the short lived fate of a civilization
   that worships a male god
   Your weapons are phallic, all of them
   That dummy that sits on your lap is no longer a worthwhile spectacle
   His shrunken pale face leaves little room for imagination
   We have spotted your moving lips and have pinned the voice to its
   proper source
   It is a source of madness
   It is a source of hunger, of power
   A source of weakness
   A source of evil
   We have exited your coliseum and are encircling your box-office,
   demanding our families back, our cultures back, our rituals back, our
   gods back, so that we may return them to their proper source
   The source of life, the source of creation, our mothers womb, the great
   goddess
   We will cut through the barbwire hangers and chastity belts
   We will climb in and incubate our spirits to the winter
   We will wait through the degenerate course of your repeated history
   We will wait for the past to die
   [Lyrics from:
   [2]https://lyrics.az/saul-williams/not-in-my-name/bloodletting.html]

References

   1. https://youtu.be/6RdgiAXipDA
   2. https://lyrics.az/saul-williams/not-in-my-name/bloodletting.html