It ain't fair John Sinclair In the stir for breathing air Won't you care for John Sinclair In the stir for breathing air Let him be, set him free Let
If you had the luck of the Irish You'd be sorry and wish you were dead You should have the luck of the Irish And you'd wish you was English instead I
Woman is the Nigger of the world Yes she is: Think about it. Woman is the Nigger of the world Think about it, do something about it. We make her paint
Sister there's a wind that never dies Sister we're breathing together Sister our love and hopes Forever keep on moving Oh so slowly in the world {Chorus
Well it was Sunday bloody Sunday When they shot the people there The cries of thirteen martyrs Filled the Free Derry air Is there anyone amongst you
: Woman is the nigger of the world Yes she is...think about it Woman is the nigger of the world Think about it...do something about it We make her
State, Attica State, we're all mates with Attica State They all live in suffocation Let's not watch them die in sorrow Now's the time for revolution
late To build a new world New world, O New world That's what we live for And yes, my dear sisters We must learn to live New world, O New world That
: We're born in a prison Raised in a prison Sent to a prison called school We cry in a prison We love in a prison We dream in a prison like fools
: Well it was Sunday bloody Sunday When they shot the people there The cries of thirteen martyrs Filled the Free Derry air Is there any one amongst you
: It ain't fair, John Sinclair In the stir for breathing air Won't you care for John Sinclair? In the stir for breathing air Let him be, set him free
: Sister, there's a wind that never dies Sister, we're breathing together Sister, our love and hopes forever keep on moving oh so slowly in the world
: There may not be much difference Between Chairman Mao and Richard Nixon If we strip them naked There may not be much difference Between Marilyn Monroe
in drag!" New York City...New York City...New York City Que pasa, New York? Que pasa, New York? New York City...New York City...New York City Que pasa, New York
: If you had the luck of the Irish You'd be sorry and wish you were dead You should have the luck of the Irish And you'd wish you was English instead
Sister, there's a wind that never dies Sister, we're breathing together Sister, our love and hopes forever keep on moving oh so slowly in the world
We're born in a prison Raised in a prison Sent to a prison called school We cry in a prison We love in a prison We dream in a prison like fools Wood
