This is the one, two, three, four, five, sixth song I’ve created from the point of view of Uncle Sam. It is a call to action to those people who sit on the sidelines complaining that no one is doing anything about the state of affairs, yet they sit idly by, taking no action themselves.

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Lyrics

I’m older than the flag you’ve been standing under, son
I’ve seen us lose our nerve, watched our country come undone
But I’ve been counting up the wreckage that they left behind this year
The losses in the courtrooms where the lawyers disappear

I’ve seen this fascist tide before, I’ve seen it pull back out
I’ve stood on docks of certainty and watched the certain drown
The polls are surely turning, like a tanker in the bay
The culture’s catching on to what they’ve been trying to wipe away

I’m not asking for a hero, nor some dramatic scene
I WANT YOU to stop the waiting, you’re the one I came to find
I WANT YOU to wear the armor that you’ve had on the whole time
You’re the one I’m pointing at, you’re the one I mean

I don’t need you in a uniform, I don’t need a single gun
I need you in the meeting hall when the meeting is no fun
I need you on the Tuesday that you’d rather sleep right through
I need the door you knock on twice because the first time, no one knew

It’s the ride you give a stranger to the polling place at dawn
It’s the kid you helped get registered before the deadline’s gone
We didn’t build this country with one battle, one campaign
We built it with a million small right things, not one in vain

I’m not asking for a hero, not some dramatic scene
I WANT YOU to stop the scrolling, start the showing up
I WANT YOU to do the small thing till the small thing is enough
You’re the one I’m pointing at, you’re the one I mean

I’ve watched whole empires gut themselves and call it victory
I’ve watched the ash turn into orchards more than once in history
The thing they’re burning down right now, you think it’s only loss
But I’ve seen what grows back greener when you finally pay the cost

You’ve been waiting on a knight in shining armor, scanning the horizon line
But no horse is coming, no stranger’s gonna save you in the nick of time
You’ve had the armor on since birth, you just forgot to look
You’re not waiting for the story, son, you’re the one who writes the book

I’m tired of being a picture, I’m raising my damn voice
I’m done waiting for a hero, this was always your choice
So if you’ve ever loved this country…
Prove it now

I’m not asking for a hero, not some thrilling scene
I WANT YOU to make a phone call, knock on one more door
I WANT YOU to do it today, not some day you’re waiting for
I hope you know by now…you’re the one I mean

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Funky Civic R&B

1970s Glam Art Rock

1970s Classic Arena Rock

1980s Art Funk

1980s Dance Rock

1990s Alt-Funk Groove

New Orleans Brass Band

Electric Chicago Blues

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Last July I created the Good Good Trouble song in honor of John Lewis; I decided to create a new batch of that song this year. Same lyrics, different music. Get inspired to go make Good Trouble.

This year, “Good Trouble Lives On” returns for a weekend of action from July 17-19. Find an event near you at the Good Trouble Lives On site. Or if you’re in Minnesota, join us in Chaska this Saturday for our weekly protest. (As always, scroll down for alternate versions of this song.)

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Lyrics

Click on the post below to read the lyrics and hear the previous versions of this song.

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Anthemic Gospel Rock

New Wave Glam Pop

90s Alternative Folk Rock

Hip Hop Soul

Afrobeat

Latin Rock

Appalachian Protest Hymn

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On our 250th birthday as a nation, we should take time to recognize all the ways America has left the world and humanity a much better place. For all our glaring faults, especially during this period of crisis we are going through, we should not lose sight of the greatness we are capable of. That should be our north star as we redouble our efforts to form a more perfect union.

I had a really difficult time chosing the version of this song as the headliner for this week but I figured a fusion of great American genres of blues and jazz with the Latin influence thrown into the mix as appropriate. Still, I really like how all the different genres turned out for this one. Scroll to the bottom to listen to them.

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Lyrics

We crossed an ocean to write something new,
Put the power in the people, said all men are true,
It was said imperfect, we said it half-right,
But we wrote down a promise we’ve been fighting to ignite.

We built the factories, we fed the world’s poor,
Sent boys across the water to end a dictator’s war,
The Marshall Plan, the moon landing, polio’s cure,
Jazz and blues and rock and roll, democracy’s great roar.

We didn’t get it right the first time through,
But every generation strove to make the promise true.

Happy birthday to US, to you and to me,
Two hundred fifty years of trying to be free,
We’re the dream and the wound, we’re the chain and the key,
Happy birthday to US, now who do we want to be?

Harriet walked her people north through snow, mud and fear,
Lincoln paid in blood to make the nation hear,
Suffragettes in Seneca Falls would not be told their place,
César Chávez in the dirt made justice show its face.

We gave the world the internet, we mapped the human gene,
Bob Dylan sang of wounds the powerful kept unseen,
We sent Voyager past Saturn into the infinite black,
And every time we fell from grace, we fought our way back.

We didn’t get it right the first time through,
But every generation strove to make the promise true.

Happy birthday to US, to you and to me,
Two hundred fifty years of trying to be free,
We’re the dream and the wound, we’re the chain and the key,
Happy birthday to US, now who do we want to be?

But look in the mirror, look hard, look long,
A fearful minority is trying to erase freedom’s song,
MAGA waves its flags while the courthouse bends,
And a king in the making says the Constitution ends.

They’re selling out the birthright, they’re burning what we built,
Dressing hatred up in red, white, and blue silk,
But we have seen darkness try to swallow us before,
And every time it tried, we walked back through Liberty’s door.

So light the candles, two hundred fifty strong,
This is not the ending, this is the middle of the song,
We are Madison and Douglas, King and Seneca’s cry,
We are Stonewall and the GI Bill and Armstrong in the sky,

We are flawed beyond forgetting, we are stubborn beyond shame,
We are every generation playing the same impossible game,
And the experiment isn’t over, it’s just waiting on US,
Every one of US, it’s waiting on US.

Happy birthday to US, to you and to me,
Two hundred fifty years of dying to be free,
We’re the dream and the wound, we’re the chain and the key,
Happy birthday to US, now who do we want to be?
Happy birthday to US, we are who we choose to be.

Who do we want to be?
Who do we want to be?
Who do we choose to be...

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

New Orleans Gospel Blues

Delta Blues

Joyful American Parade

50s Guitar-Driven Rock & Roll

Whimsical 60s Music Hall Pop

Celebratory Americana Gospel-Rock

Bright 80s New Wave Pop Rock

Jangly 90s Folk-Rock

Quirky Indie Folk-Pop

Minimalist A Cappella Art-Pop

Hypnotic 2000s Indie Art-Rock

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I wrote two versions of this song last year for Juneteenth. Same title, different lyrics. This is the second version. (As always, scroll down for alternate genres.)

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Lyrics

They came ashore in Galveston, blue coats and Union pride,
Granger read the order out while the sea stood dignified.
“All slaves are free,” the paper said, “with rights to work and own.”
But freedom’s voice was trembling, and we were far from home.

Some danced, some wept, some ran to find the names they’d lost to sale,
Some masters lied, some pulled their guns, said freedom was a tale.
But word had come, and word held weight, and though the sky was gray,
We marked the flame, we made a vow: We’d honor Juneteenth Day.

Freedom keeps coming, it don’t stand still.
It’s a train in the night climbing up the hill.
It’s a hymn and a warning, it’s the fight and the friend.
Freedom ain’t a moment; it’s the road that won’t end.

We built our schools, we cast our votes, we married in the light,
We wore our names, we bought our land, we stepped into our right.
But white hoods wrote the Black Codes, and justice wore a mask,
And soon the laws were blades again, and freedom was a task.

They burned our books, they shut our towns, they beat us for our breath,
And said our rise was arrogance, and dignity was theft.
But still we held our memory, and passed the flame along,
In churchyard speeches, whispered prayers, and children’s freedom songs.

Freedom keeps coming, through smoke and bone;
It’s carved in names we call our own.
It’s buried in cotton, it’s nailed to the trees;
It walks through fire and sings through grief.

They made us ride the back of buses, drink from separate wells,
But we took Juneteenth with us, through city streets and hell.
From Houston east to Harlem’s hum, to Oakland’s rising sun,
We cooked our food, we told our tales, we never came undone.

We danced beneath red, black, and green, our joy a kind of fight,
Because the world said, “Know your place,” and we said, “Know our right.”
Through jukebox truth and marching feet, we laid another track;
For every step they pushed us down, we rose up and pushed right back.

Freedom keeps coming, in the hush and roar;
In the eyes of the child they tried to ignore.
It’s the verse we repeat when they steal the refrain;
It’s the echo of chains turned into a flame.

Now they ban the books, and close the doors, and say, “We’re colorblind.”
But color is the banner still, in justice redefined.
They pull their funds from festivals, they say the past is done,
But we’ve seen how long a shadow lasts beneath a bitter sun.

And still we gather, still we shout, still we love and learn,
Still we teach our babies that the fire has to burn.
Because freedom isn’t given; it’s something we become,
Each time we rise, each time we run, each time we beat the drum.

Freedom keeps coming, through every age;
It’s written in loss and born in rage.
From Granger’s voice to this very breath;
We live it in struggle, in love, in death.

It’s not just a holiday, not just a name;
It’s the story we carry in soul and flame.
Freedom keeps coming, it don’t pretend;
It’s the road we walk, again and again.

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Cinematic Gospel Soul

Black Western Country Soul

Southern Blues Rock

Afrofuturist Chamber-Dub

80s New Wave Surf Rock

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Slavery did not end with the signing of the Emancipation Proclamation. It took two years after the Civil War ended, when General Granger traveled to Gavelston, Texas to read General Order Number 3, announcing to the formerly enslaved people that they were now free.

In 2021, President Biden signed into law legislation recognizing Juneteenth as a federal holiday, our second Independence Day.

Here’s the song I created last Juneteenth.

Who is this band?

ICYMI

Alternate Genres

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An event planned on the National Mall tied to celebrating our nation’s 250th birthday, originally featured several entertainers. However, many pulled out, including Martina McBride and Bret Michaels, after they felt misled, saying the event was more politically aligned with Donald Trump than they expected.

Trump responded by calling the artists boring and is now building a monstrosity of a stage on the White House lawn for a UFC match. Politics is downstream of culture and Trump is losing the culture. Here’s some coverage of this embarrasement:

• People.com

• San Francisco Chronicle

• New York Post

• The Daily Beast

This version is in the style of 1980s-era Minneapolis funk, in a nod to Morris Day and The Time, who said NO to Trump’s self-aggrandizement.

As always, scroll down for alternate genres (I tried to create a version in the musical style of each of the artists/bands that said No Freaking Thanks to Trump).

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Lyrics

First Martina said, “Nah, this ain’t my vibe,”
Bret took his bandana, said, “Not my tribe.”
The Commodores sailed off, Young MC dropped the mic,
The party turned ghostly, no one’s up for the hike.

Morris Day checked his watch, said, “I’m outta time,”
Fab said, “Not faking this,” left the conga line.
Bret’s “Poison” was mild next to the scene,
No encore for Trump, they all fled the scheme.

Happy birthday, Mr. President, but the stage is kinda bare,
Bret took his “Poison” and the Commodores aren’t there.
You called a fair, a festival, a patriotic spree,
But it’s just you and that big empty house on TV.

Oh, the balloons floated off, the band packed their gear,
Left Trump shouting in silence, “It’s my year, it’s my year!”
But if no one will sing, he’ll still make it grand,
Turn the lawn to a ring, he’s got fists on demand.

When the last “no” came, he threw down his red hat,
Said, “No birthday parade? Well, imagine that!”
Scrapped the whole party, the tantrum was grand,
Now the White House lawn’s a cage fight stand.

Happy birthday, Mr. President, but the cake’s just gone stale,
No band, no parade, just a fight club tale.
You called a fair, a festival, a patriotic spree,
But now it’s UFC on your birthday marquee.

So blow out the candles, the fight’s on at nine,
A birthday to remember, though not quite divine.

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Circus Rock

Satirical Punk-Funk Rock

Lat 80s Glam-Metal Power Ballad (Bret Michaels/Poison)

Late 80s New Jack Swing (Fab Morvan/Milli Vanilli)

Late 80s Golden-Age Hip Hop (Young MC)

Mid-70s Smooth Soul Ballad (The Commodors)

90s Nashville Country Rock Power Ballad (Martina McBride)

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The famous quote by Samuel Johnson would have read “Patriotifm is the laft Refuge of a Scoundrell” before the 1755 publication of A Dictionary of the English Language by the very same Samuel Johson, which standardized spelling in English. Thus “patriotifm” becomes “patriotism,” “laft” becomes “last,” and “scoundrell” becomes “scoundrel.”

Johnson wasn't attacking real love for one's country. He was attacking hypocrisy. He meant that when a dishonest person (a "scoundrel") has run out of all other ways to defend their suspicious actions, they wrap themselves in the flag to claim their motives are beyond reproach. At the time, Johnson was particularly annoyed by the "Patriot" faction in British politics, whom he viewed as agitators using the guise of liberty to cause disorder.

The phrase is as relevent today as it was then.

(As ususal, scroll for alternate genres of this song—I particularly like the barber shop quartet version.)

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Lyrics

They wrap themselves in red, white, and blue
Like the flag was made for the chosen few
Talk about freedom with a fist in the air
Then build their bubble out of lies and fear
They kneel to power, they laugh at the poor
They withdraw the welcome, they dead-bolt the door
And call it “order,” call it “making us strong”
But the house they praise is what they would burn down

They want the name, but not the cost
They love the symbol, hate what it’s bought

Last refuge of a scoundrel
It’s the flag they hide behind
They say “country” like a password
While they poison what it means inside
No, you don’t get to wear her glory
While you tear up her design
Last refuge of a scoundrel
Wrapped in the stars and stripes

They curse dissent but they worship control
Want a strongman to strangle the national soul
They say “founding fathers” like a magic spell
But they’d suppress the vote and muffle liberty’s bell
What made this place a light in the storm
Was not fear of the uniform
It was the promise nobody stands above law
And the right to speak when power does wrong

They want the glory, not the grit
Draped in the flag upon which they spit

Last refuge of a scoundrel
It’s the flag they hide behind
They say “country” like a password
While they poison what it means inside
No, you don’t get to wear her glory
While you tear up her design
Last refuge of a scoundrel
Wrapped in the stars and stripes

America was never in the shouting
Never in the boot against the throat
It lives in the unfinished promise
In the widening of the vote
In the hand that pulls a stranger closer
In the truth that stands when tyrants lie
You call yourself a patriot
Yet you cheer as democracy dies

Last refuge of a scoundrel
Now the mask is wearing thin
You wave the flag above the wreckage
Of the faith you never believed in
No, you don’t get to steal the language
Of the ones who fought and died
Last refuge of a scoundrel
Wrapped in the stars and stripes
Last refuge of a scoundrel
There’s no patriot in a lie

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Barber Shop Quartet

Spaghetti Western

Gothic Country Ballad

Eccentric Psychedelic Folk-Rock

Jangly Psychedelic Folk-Rock

Circus Punk

Sea Shanty Punk

Raw Street Punk Anthem

Fast 70s Punk

Dark Political Rock

Anthemic Protest Rock

Classic American Protest

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This song borrows from the Star Wars series The Mandalorian and is inspired by the many ways Americans are saying hell no to authoritarianism.

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Lyrics

They came back wrapped in flags and hubris,
Selling fear like it was faith,
Told the judges bend the language,
Told the weak to know their place.
But the robe and gavel answered,
Not every line can be undone,
There are still a few bright outposts
Holding steady in the sun.

And when they say bow your head,
When they say fall in line,
We raise our eyes to one another,
Say not this time, not this time.

This is the way
We keep the faith where the fear begins,
This is the way
No crown survives where the people dig in
Hand in hand, town to town,
We don’t scare easy, we don’t obey,
Love is the shield around those they’d cast away,
This is the way

Some are marching in the daylight,
Some are filming in the dark,
Some are cutting up the credit cards
That fed spineless market gods.
Some are singing from the stages,
Calling tyrants by their names,
We are filling out our ballots
To stop their shameless games.

And they can buy another network,
They can flood another feed,
But they can’t buy our nation’s promise,
They can’t buy what we believe.

This is the way
We keep the faith where the fear begins,
This is the way
No crown survives where the people dig in
Hand in hand, town to town,
We don’t scare easy, we don’t obey,
Love is the shield around those they’d cast away,
This is the way

They want fear to be the language,
Want exhaustion to win out,
Want the decent and the quiet
To forget what hope’s about.
But we’ve seen too much to swallow,
We’ve got too much left to save,
And the line keeps getting longer
Every time they say behave.

From Minnesota’s mourning winter
To the heat on city streets,
People done with all the whispering
Put their bodies in between.
Not for glory, not for cameras,
Not to hear their own names ring,
Just to say we will not take this
While there’s breath in anything.

This is the way
We guard the small and tell the truth when they would look away,
This is the way
We turn their rage to stubborn grace and meet them day by day,
Vote by vote, name by name,
Song by song, state by state,
We are not the silence they were betting on to seal our fate,
This is the way
This is the way

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Psychedelic Indie Rock

Progressive Folk Rock

Protest Rock Anthem

Bombastic Glam Arena Rock

Theatrical 70s Arena Rock

Epic Frontier Sci-FI

Cinematic Space-Western

Melodic Power Pop

Upbeat Power Pop Resistance

Modern Folk Protest

Dark Cinematic Resistance

Dark Appalachian Protest Folk

18th Century American Revolution Protest Folk

Acoustic Singer-Songwriter

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Last August, I released Texas Hold ‘Em (Abbott Rules) in response to Texas’ cynical mid-decade redistricting scheme.

Now the corrupt conservatives on the Supreme Court pounded the last nail in the coffin of the Voting Rights act, clearning the way for a return to Jim Crow legal discrimination at the ballot box. Southern Republicans took immediate and full advantage to halt voting and redraw the maps. (Scroll for the many alternative genres below)

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Lyrics

First they muffled the warning bells, called it neutral, called it fair
Took a knife to voting rights with a haughty legal air
Said the past was past enough, said the ground had finally changed
While the same old hands kept reaching for the power they could gain

Page by page and case by case, they whitewashed voting rights
Turned the law from shield to loophole, dressed retreat up as insight
What was written to protect got narrowed by design
Till the bench became a backhoe for the old exclusion line

Chip the stone and crack the wall
Call it doctrine, watch it fall
If you gut the rules that kept us safe
You hand the barbarians a key to the gate

They know they can’t win it straight
Trump’s tanking with Black folks, GOP panics
So they gut the vote and redraw the state
Politicians shouldn’t choose voters
Or Jim Crow gets a fresh coat of paint

Then Roberts hands Alito’s pen another loaded round
And suddenly the map rooms hum from every southern town
Memphis sliced in three quick cuts, Louisiana jams the brakes
Elections bent midstream for power, chaos sold as what it takes

Tornado watch, flood in the hall, still they rush to get it through
Like the weather itself was warning what these men were set to do
Not one secret midnight plot, not one hidden alley trade
Broad daylight, courthouse language, racial lines with new names made

Bless the knife and call it law
Split the people, steal it all
If you choke the vote and fix the weight
You did not win, you rigged the state

They know they can’t win it straight
Trump’s tanking with Hispanics, GOP panics
So they choke the ballot, lock the gate
Politicians shouldn’t choose voters
That’s Jim Crow dressed up as a court mandate

They say “colorblind” while drawing maps that bleach the living truth
Pack the Black wards, crack the barrios, shave the future from the youth
Move the line and move the school and move the weight of every street
Till representation turns to paper no one powerful has to meet

They do not need burning crosses, they do not need the sheet
They learned to trade the snarl for robes, the nightstick for a brief
Same old order, cleaner fonts, same contempt with softer names
A system built to blunt our numbers and then dare us to prove the blame

Who needs a hood when the robe does the job?
Who needs a cross when the court tips the law?
No torch to wave when the map does the work
No need to shout when the ruling’s the slur

The hood came off, the program stayed
Now it’s chamber votes and old charades
Same old poison, tailored fit
Same old grave, more elegant script

No new South
Old scheme
New stamp
Same dream
Cut the map
Cut the voice
Call it law
Leave no choice

They know they can’t win it straight
Trump’s tanking with women, GOP panics
So they split the map and rig the weight
Politicians shouldn’t choose voters
That’s the old white order in a fresh red state

They know they can’t win it straight
Trump’s tanking with young folks, GOP panics
So they carve us up and call it fate
Politicians shouldn’t choose voters
Or democracy dies by legal hate

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Dark K Pop

Doo Wop

South African Protest Pop

Dark Surf Garage

Civil Rights Era Gospel

Socially Conscious 70s Soul

Satirical Jazz Rock

Satirical Art Rock

Work Song

Dark Delta Blues

Southern Gothic Protest

Alternative Rap Protest

Alternative Rap-Rock Protest

80s Arena Hard Rock

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There was a line in my first Uncle Sam song that I thought would be perfect for its own song: “They may try to bury truth, but we’ll keep diggin’ it up.” Well, here it is! (Scroll down for alternate genre versions of this song.)

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Lyrics

They sold a stolen-election story like a gospel on repeat
Fake electors in the shadows, polished shoes on sacred streets
Lost in every court they entered, still they lit the match for proof
Then sent a mob to break the chamber, wrapped in flags and bulletproof
And with the glass shattered on the floor, they changed the camera angle too
Called it tourism, called it patriot love, called the lie a different truth

Every time the record speaks, they drown it in another sound
Every time the facts break through, they drag them underground

They keep trying to bury the truth
(But we’ll keep digging it up)
They keep throwing dirt on the proof
(But we’ll keep digging it up)
With book bans, redactions, and backroom spin
With flags held high over original sin
They keep trying to bury the truth
(But we’ll keep digging it up)

Sharpie lines on weather maps, the storm was bent to fit a boast
CDC warnings trimmed and softened while COVID killed the most
Press rooms punished, science muted, pages deleted from the web
Words erased from public record so the truth begins to ebb
Teachers boxed and libraries raided, history cut to fit the script
If you can’t outfight the evidence, you get the whole thing stripped

Call the press the enemy, call the judge a crooked hack
Call the witness traitor first, so no one hears them answer back

They keep trying to bury the truth
(But we’ll keep digging it up)
They keep throwing dirt on the proof
(But we’ll keep digging it up)
With book bans, redactions, and backroom spin
With flags held high over original sin
They keep trying to bury the truth
(But we’ll keep digging it up)

They called Renée Good and Alex Pretti “terrorists” before the facts came through
Called the press “the enemy” when cameras caught a cleaner view
Election workers, whistleblowers, judges all crooked too
Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Kimmel, pushed aside for comedic truth
That’s the play: attack the witness, make the public doubt the proof
Smear the face that names the lie, and hope the lie outlives the truth

Epstein files, sealed-room whispers, names and favors, smoke and fear
Everybody wants the headline, no one wants the ledger clear
“What about this? What about that?” till the trail is choked with dust
That’s the game, confuse the jury, break the mirror, kill the trust
Fox paid out, but still they sell it, every hearing cuts a clip
Truth gets buried by a thousand hands that never let the shovel slip

Bury the votes
Bury the tapes
Bury the science
Bury the names
Bury the books
Bury the blame
Bury the facts
And call it a frame

They keep trying to bury the truth
(But we’ll keep digging it up)
They keep throwing dirt on the proof
(But we’ll keep digging it up)
From the Capitol’s broken windows
To the economy they’re blowing up
They keep trying to bury the truth
(But we’ll keep digging it up)

You can flood the zone with lies
You can redact the files up
But every grave they dig for truth
Becomes the ground where we rise up

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Alt R&B

Psychedelic Soul

Art Pop Opera

Baroque Pop

Dark Pop

Darkwave

80s Art Rock

Trip-Hop

Industrial Rock

Dark Americana

Blues Rock

Southern Gothic

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I’ve listened to the Paul McCartney and Wings album Band on the Run countless times over the years. One of my favorite songs from that album is “Picasso’s Last Words (Drink To Me)”.

I didn’t realize until recently that the line in the song (Drink to me, drink to my health. You know I can’t drink anymore.) was literally Picasso’s last words. The story McCartney tells is that Dustin Hoffman asked him if he could write a song about anything and then pulled out a Time magazine with Picasso’s death featured on the cover as a challenge. McCartney met the moment, obviously.

That line has been running around in my head as a potential song from the point of view of Lady Liberty. (Read the Wikipedia entry about the Statue of Liberty, by the way; fascinating.)

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Lyrics

I stood here for the poor and hunted
For those who crossed the sea in fear
But you brought in a ban on Muslims
And told the world they’re not welcome here

You took young children from their parents
And locked them up behind my back
You turned the promise into cruelty
And called that strength while rights went black

Drink to me, drink to my health
You know I can’t drink anymore
The cup is dry, the night is heavy
My torch is dim along the shore
Drink to me, drink to my health
You know I can’t drink anymore
I tried to drown what I was seeing
I cannot bear it anymore

You came for protest, speech, and due process
For foreign students, schools, and law
You ruled by fear and mass detention
And dared the courts to stop it all

You sent the agents through the cities
You made the neighbors shut their doors
You filled the streets with raids and murders
And called it Operation Metro Surge

Drink to me, drink to my health
You know I can’t drink anymore
The cup is dry, the night is heavy
My torch is dim along the shore
Drink to me, drink to my health
You know I can’t drink anymore
I tried to drown what I was seeing
I cannot bear it anymore

But now the numbers start to turn back
In red-seat races, town by town
The voters push against the strongmen
And beat his margins down and down
The spell is breaking here and elsewhere
The ones who fed on fear now fall
The tide is turning toward democracy
And late at last, Orbán falls

Drink to me, drink to my health
Raise up your glass and raise your voice
The torch is bright above the harbor
The people still can make the choice
Drink to me, drink to my health
Not as a plea but as a vow
If liberty has nearly drowned here
Then pull me from the water now

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Irish Pub Singalong

Rock Anthem

Celtic Art-Pop

Desert Blues

Contemporary Folk Ballad

Cinematic Anthem

Dark Cabaret Torch

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I’ve been meaning to create a song from the point of view of Uncle Sam going shopping for awhile. The fact that Trump started an insane war with Iran that is driving gas prices through the roof means the time is now. This is my fifth song from the point of view of Uncle Sam. A few more and I’ll have an album’s worth! (As usual, scroll down for alternate genres).

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Lyrics

Kitchen light hummin’, bills all spread,
He said “day one,” but the costs cause me dread.
Rent climbed higher for the same thin walls,
Same cracked ceiling, same leak in the hall.

Power bill thicker than a Sunday Bible,
Trump’s war makes the whole grid’s liable.
Heat costs more, lights cost more,
Every month another shadow at the working family’s door.

The the health plan notice slid in like a knife,
Premium jumped on the price of a life.
They call it “adjustment,” I call it a raid,
Cut help for the people, keep the insurers paid.

They say the market’s hummin’, singin’ all is fine,
But I can read a bill and I can read a sign.

I want you (to afford your life),
Keep the lights on, keep the kids fed right.
Trump said day one would make it all all right,
But the costs climb higher every night.
I want you, I want you (to afford your life),
Not get gaslit by a president’s lie.
We can see the prices with our own two eyes,
I want you (to afford your life).

Stepped off the porch, hit the pump on the corner,
Digits started climbin’ like they smelled disorder.
Gas went up when Trump bombed Iran,
Now every commute pays for a weak man’s plan.

Every gallon’s got war priced into the math,
Foreign adventures hit the pump awfully fast.
Then I rolled my cart under supermarket lights,
Found sticker-shock tellin’ me reality bites.

Ground beef priced like a rich man’s treat,
Bread costs more, sweets got elite.
Tariffs jam the pipeline, prices creep, then leap,
Trump taxed the shelf and called the damage cheap.

Picked up, put back, did that twice,
That’s the new national anthem of the age of price.
And when they raid the hands that harvest, haul, and load,
Food costs rise from the field clear down the road.

They say the market’s hummin’, singin’ all is fine,
But I can read a bill and I can read a sign.

I want you (to afford your life)
Keep the lights on, make it through the night
He said day one would make it all all right
But the costs climb higher every night
I want you (to afford your life)
Don’t gaslight me with a stock price lie
We can see the prices with our own two eyes
I want you (to afford your life)

Pharmacy counter, text says refill delayed,
Same old prescription, brand-new price to pay.
Co-pay climbed up, coverage got thin,
You’ll get sick in this country with R.F.K. cashin’ in.

Health insurance up while the help got cut,
Boardroom smiles with the safety net shut.
Then they raid the kitchens, the job sites, the farms,
Rip the labor from the backbone and call it “reform.”

Food costs rise, construction jumps, hotel bills climb,
Mass deportation turns shortage into overtime.
Mama needs a visit, granddad needs care,
Home health costs soar but the G.O.P. don’t care.

He told us “day one,” now look where we’ve been.
Higher at the pump and the checkout again.
He waves that stock ticker like it feeds a child,
But I’ve seen the milk, the meat, the medicine climb.
War for the oil, tariffs on the crate,
Raids on the labor that put food on the plate.
Then they smile for the cameras and call it a win.
Tell me who can afford to be American.

What’s humming?
(The market)
What’s hurting?
(Our lives!)
They can brag on the Dow till the cameras go dark,
We still see the total in the grocery cart.

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Indie Anthem Art-Rock

Afrobeat

Ska

Synthwave

Minneapolis Dance-Punk

Boogie Blues Rock

80s Heartland Piano Rock

New Orleans Brass Band

New Orleans Brass Band Bounce Crossover

New Orleans Brass Band Dirge-To-Jubilee

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I’d been thinking about the phrase “we have friends everywhere” from the Star Wars series Andor as I was beginning to see the number of people showing up at our weekly protests rise, long before it became a line of solidarity during our recent unpleasantness.

So, I was delighted when I started seeing the Rebel Loon logo appearing everywhere (Star Tribune reporter Alicia Eler has the backstory on the graphic designer who created the original logo.)

It provides the perfect iconography for the song I wanted to create.

And congratulations to my fellow Minnesotans for being recognized with the JFK Profile in Courage award.

(I created a gazillion different genre versions for this one because it hits close to the heart. Scroll to the bottom to listen to the rest.)

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Lyrics

Black SUVs await
Windows dark as tar
Masked men scanning plates
From the unmarked car

Schools go dark at noon
Storefront shutters fall
Neighbors screaming warnings
Through a piercing whistle call

The loon on the lake goes silent
Circles in the gray
We watch them take our neighbors
And something breaks that day

No courtrooms, no mercy
Just masks and a plane
You see a mother taken
You just can’t look away

Rebel loon rising
Over frozen lake and pine
They call us rebel scum
We wear it with pride

Rebel loon rising
You can hear the whistle blow
We have friends everywhere
Right here in the falling snow

Someone tails the ICE convoy
Through our street’s frozen glare
Phones up, recording everything
We have watchers everywhere

Someone brings the groceries
To a family laying low
Someone tracks the charter flights
Through falling February snow

A poet says “I’m not mad at you”
Bleeding out on winter ground
A nurse asks “Are you okay?”
Before lethal shots ring out

The lake wind carries names now
Through every street and square
You thought you ruled the silence
But we have friends everywhere

Rebel loon rising
Across the prairie sky
They call us rebel scum
We answer standing high

Rebel loon rising
From Duluth to St. Paul square
We have friends everywhere
Watching the corruption laid bare

We blow the warning whistles
This is the way

We watch the courthouse doors
This is the way

We stand with cameras rolling
This is the way

We keep ICE awake at midnight
This is the way

We walk the kids to school
This is the way

We respond with the rapid networks
Across the state at all hours
This is the way

We deliver food and blankets
And guard the churchyard towers
This is the way

You call us rebel scum
We wear it proud today

Rebel loon rising
Hear the northern waters cry
Rebel loon rising
Under the North Star sky

Rebel loon rising
From the lakes to far away
We have friends everywhere
And they’re rising every day

Rebel loon rising
Let the empire hear us say
We have friends everywhere
This. Is. The way

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Space Opera Orchestral

Modernist Symphonic

Romantic-Era Orchestral

Cinematic Folk-Rock Industrial

Tribal March Orchestral

Dark Cinematic Synth Pop

Spy Cell Cinematic

Hard Core Punk

70s Fantasy Hard Rock

80s Prog Rock

80s Melodic Arena Rock

Alt Rock Arena

90s Alt Rock

80s New Wave

80s Art Pop

Emotional Power Pop

Piano-Driven Dramatic Pop

Confessional Piano Rock

Intimate Piano Alt Rock

Swamp Rock

70s Folk Rock

Acoustic Folk Rock

Literate Indie Folk

Dust Bowl

Union Hall Singalong

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I’ve compiled a No Kings playlist of many of the protest songs I’ve created thus far for use at No Kings rallies. If you want to use it for your own rally, you can grab the link at my YouTube channel.

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Movements.Rocks Origin Story

Attending the first No Kings rally in March 2025 is what really inspired me to start this newsletter.

There were a few rally-goers who brought music with them; a playlist of protest songs, old standards:

• This Land Is Your Land by Woody Guthrie

• Joan Baez and Pete Seeger singing We Shall Overcome

• Fortunate Son by CCR

• The Times They Are A-Changin’ by Bob Dylan

And many more. I watched how those songs delighted people. Motivated people. Got their feet moving. Energized people.

I had been experimenting with Suno for several months, so I was already aware of it’s capabilities.

It struck me then, though, that music is the perfect vehicle for delivering difficult messages, especially to people who are not inclined to listen to them. For those who are open to protest messages, moreover, music is motivating. Lastly, with the ability to rapidly create songs, I had the ability to respond to current events in near real-time.

My first serious attempt at a protest song was Memorial Day, which I published on May 26, 2025:

Fast forward to June, 2025 and the assassination of Speaker Melissa Hortman, her husband and dog and the attempted assissination of Senator John Hoffman on the day of the second No Kings rally.

The fact that Minnesotans came out in massive numbers for the rally despite the trauma of the murders and authorities telling us to stay home, inspired my first No Kings song.

I created an updated version of the song for the second No Kings rally in October 2025:

And now, for No Kings 3, here’s the latest version:

Who is this band?

Thanks for your support!

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I created this song for the nationwide Stand Up For Science protest this Saturday, on March 7, 2026. It forced me to think of all the blessings the scientific revolution has brought us and, conversely, the degrees to which the Epstein Administration is attacking science. This song is about both sides of that coin. I wanted it to be “list” song similar to Billy Joel’s fantastic song, We Didn’t Start The Fire.

Here’s a report detailing this regime’s attack on science.

Stand Up For Science Research

764KB ∙ PDF file

Download

Download

As always, scroll down for alternative genres.

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Lyrics

Smallpox gone, polio nearly
Measles faded, tetanus clearly
Vaccines rising, antibodies
mRNA in record bodies
Life expectancy doubled time
From thirty-one to seventy climb
Childhood fevers, history
Public health victory

Penicillin, sterile steel
Appendix burst but you still heal
Organ grafts and chemo drip
Radiation fighting it
Transplant hearts, insulin flow
ICU lights in afterglow
Once a sentence, now a chance
Modern medicine advanced

MRI and PET scan sight
Neurons firing in the night
Therapy, serotonin
Science brought the mind back home

Stand up for science
Stand up for truth
For every breakthrough
Built in a lab, built on truth
From the question “What if?”
To rockets in flight
Stand up for reason
Stand up for light

Power lines across the plains
Nuclear cores, electric trains
Solar fields and turbine spin
Battery cells storing wind
Factories and city glow
Industrial century flow
American grids, humming wires
Progress fueled the fires

Transistors, silicon
Microchips the world runs on
ARPANET to internet
Clouds of data overset
Artificial minds arise
Code behind our modern lives
Trillions in the GDP
Federal R&D

Jet propulsion, satellite
GPS in dead of night
Weather maps and hurricane track
Commercial flights that bring us back
Moonshot arcs and rover tread
Defense systems overhead
Coordinates that farmers use
Markets time their cues

Crop rotation, nitrogen
Hybrid seeds in rising sun
Green Revolution harvest wide
Eight billion fed worldwide
Precision tractors, soil mapped
Pest control, irrigation tapped
Midwest grain and orchard rows
Agriculture grows

Stand up for science
Stand up for truth
For every breakthrough
Built in a lab, built on truth
From the question “What if?”
To rockets in flight
Stand up for reason
Stand up for light

Clean Air Act, water clear
Ozone healing year by year
Wildfire models, storm prediction
Policy from data friction
Earthquake codes and crash test steel
Seatbelts law a life-saving deal
Fatal miles declining fast
Research built to last

Radar waves and cryptograph
WWII aftermath
Cyber walls and nuclear shield
Biodefense on every field
Universities ignite
Peer review and data right
Evidence in law and vote
Scientific note

Behavioral design and stats
Public health where people act
Sociology of streets
Psychology of markets’ beats
Combustion engines, traffic flow
Autonomous cars in tow
High-speed rails and air traffic lanes
Mobility sustains

Refrigerators humming cold
Running water, pipes of gold
Air conditioning summer nights
LED and city lights
Smartphones glowing in our hands
Streaming worlds on demand
Contact lenses, weather app
Insulated gap

Scientific method taught
Hypothesis tested thought
Data over fear and spin
Question first, then discipline
Every bridge and vaccine vial
Every aircraft crossing mile
Every chip and surgical scene
Started with “What does this mean?”

Grant lines cut, labs gone dark
NIH and NSF marked
NASA missions canceled midstream
CDC budget torn at the seam
Climate pages wiped away
Data vanished day by day
Advisory panels cleared
Peer review interfered

mRNA grants denied
Vaccine science pushed aside
WHO withdrawal signed
Global health funds undermined
Words like “science” quietly banned
Climate findings countermanded
Research frozen, scholars gone
Brain drain moving on

Endangerment erased
Education labs displaced
Foreign aid and PEPFAR cut
Journals threatened, funding shut
Grant approvals politicized
Integrity revised

Stand up for science
Stand up for fact
For every dataset
They tried to redact
For every researcher
Locked out at night
Stand up for reason
Stand up and fight

Stand up for science
For futures unseen
For questions still burning
For what might have been
From “What happens if?”
To cures we could find
Stand up for science
Stand up for humankind

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Anthemic Pop Rock

Indie Electronic Pop

Mimimalist Art Rock

Alternative Hip Hop

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This asshole is playing with all of our futures. Hopefully, this will turn his supporters against him…finally. (If you’re unfamiliar with the phrase, watch the movie Wag The Dog.) Scroll for more genres, as always.

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Lyrics

You said the border would be iron,
Said tariffs would make us rich,
Said prices would come down easy,
All you’d do is flip a switch.
You said you’d drain the swamp dry,
Break the deep state curse,
You told us it would be America First
But all I see is Americans last.

You swore you’d end the forever wars,
No more sons in desert sand,
No more folded flags on coffins
Delivered by a trembling hand.
You mocked those who marched us east
On lies and oil and on greed,
You told us it would be America First
But all I see is Americans last.

Epstein Files locked behind closed doors,
Deadlines passed, still wanting more,
Transparency promised, buried instead,
The powerful’s secrets left for dead.
Poll numbers falling, headlines burn,
So light a match and make it turn.

Wag the dog, shake the sky,
Fire a missile, sell a lie,
When the house is falling down
Find a war to spin around.
Wag the dog, beat the drum,
Hear the cameras start to hum,
When the questions get too hot
Start a war and change the plot.

Six hundred strikes in a single year,
Somalia skies, Yemen in fear,
Caribbean boats with a second tap,
Venezuela taken at gunpoint’s trap.
Nigeria Christmas cruise missiles fell,
Syria vengeance dressed up well.
No vote in Congress, no debate,
Just “inherent power” to seal their fate.

Operation this, operation that,
Names that sound like baseball bats,
Midnight Hammer, Southern Spear,
Absolute Resolve appears.
Hawkeye Strike and Rough Rider,
Every month the circle gets wider.

And now this.

Wag the dog, change the frame,
Call it freedom, call it flame,
Call it strength, call it pride,
Bury the truth beneath the tide.
Wag the dog, rally round,
Drown the doubt in bombing sound,
When approval slips away
Find a battlefield to play.

You said Iran’s one week from the bomb,
Then said their program’s gone,
You said it’s imminent and it’s clear,
Then said the danger disappeared.
You said diplomacy had failed,
While talks were quietly derailed.
You said missiles could reach our shore,
No proof, but always “just one more.”

You said it’s for Iran’s protesters dead,
For thirty-two thousand tears you shed.
You said it’s terror, nineteen seventy-nine,
Hostages frozen back in time.
You said they plotted you by name,
You said it’s Israel’s geopolitical game,
You said credibility’s at stake,
There are red lines we cannot break.

Regime change wrapped in liberty,
Freedom sold on primetime TV.
Twelve excuses, take your pick,
Every story twisting quick.

Where’s the vote that war requires?
Where’s the law above desires?
War Powers written in black and white,
Not bypassed in the dead of night.
You swore you’d end what others did,
Called them reckless, said you’d forbid.
Yet here we stand with soldiers dead,
Another Middle East bloodshed.

Wag the dog, strike the match,
Feed the fear to distract,
When The Files trend today
Send the carriers on their way.
Wag the dog, hear the roar,
Add another endless war,
From America First, you pounded your fist,
From “no more wars”…and now this.

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Early 80s Psychedelic

Art-Rock Anthem

Classic Rock

Swamp Rock

Boom-Chicka-Boom

Outlaw Country Ballad

Folk-Punk Protest

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Another installment of my song series from the point of view of Uncle Sam, this time as he watches the State of the Union address. (Scroll down for alternative genres…lots of them!)

Here are the other Uncle Sam songs:

• My Name Is Sam

• I Want You (To Uphold The Oath)

• I Want You (Citizen)
  

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Lyrics

I sit up in the gallery, my hat is in my hands
A ghost among the sycophants who ravaged our lands
The East Wing will be a ballroom, marble stripped away
He bought it with the treason that he celebrates today

Oh, he calls it a revival but I know it by its name
The watchdogs all are silenced in a manufactured game
From the Redwood Forests to Kyiv, there’s plenty left to save
But this is American Carnage and he’s dancing on our grave.

I watch him at the podium, a grifter on the throne
While loved ones vanish and families weep alone
The Metro Surge is sweeping, the FEMA funds are cold
The Georgia ballots stolen and the Constitution is sold

Oh, he calls it a revival but I know it by its name
The watchdogs all are silenced in a manufactured game
From the Redwood Forests to Kyiv, there’s plenty left to save
But this is American Carnage and he’s dancing on our grave.

He bows to the Russian tyrant while he takes the Qatar jet
The journalists are targeted, the truth is just a threat
Loyalty oaths muzzle the state, troops are on the street
While DOGE unleashes layoffs till the ruin is complete

Ten billion from our Treasury to subsidize his crime
A billion in the crypto bank, he’s squeezing every dime
The waters of the Everglades are poisoned by his greed
While millions of our children are denied the food they need.

Oh, he calls it a revival but I know it by its name
The watchdogs all are silenced in a manufactured game
From the Redwood Forests to Kyiv, there’s plenty left to save
But this is American Carnage and he’s dancing on our grave.

Yeah, the tariffs broke the working man…
And justice scales have been rigged…
But there is plenty left to save...the USA

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Classical Guitar & Vocals

Piano Ballad

Waltz Lament

Chamber Requiem

Ceremonial Bagpipe Lament

Countrypolitan

Southern Soul

Early 90s Art-Pop Jazz Influenced

Heavy Blues Doom

70s UK Street Punk

Early 80s Arena Hard Rock

Neo-Prog Art Rock

Cinematic American Rock

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Y’all get two songs this week…because I couldn’t help myself. Both in “honor” of the State of the Union address on Tuesday. This first one is from the point of view of trump himself. Tomorrow you’ll get the point of view of Uncle Sam as he watched the State of the Union. (Scroll down for alternate genres.)

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Lyrics

Welcome my friends to the floor of the House
We’ve silenced the watchdogs as quiet as mice
Just look at the gold we’ve installed in the room
The East Wing is gone, but just look at the price!
The state of the union is beautiful, folks
The system was rigged, my little joke

Oh the state of the union is beautiful, many people say
I’m selling the airwaves, the country’s my prey
The crypto is pumping, the family is paid
It’s the greatest agreement that I ever made
Pam Bondi at Justice agrees
The country looks best when it’s down on its knees!

I’ve got a new jet from the Qatari sheikhs
A four-hundred million apology gift
I sued my own Treasury, think of the stakes
It takes a true genius to manage the grift
The ballots in Georgia are under my lock
And DOGE took an axe to the government block

Oh the state of the union is beautiful, many people say
I’m selling the airwaves, the country is my prey
I’m pumping the crypto, the family is paid
It’s the greatest agreement that I ever made
Pam Bondi at Justice agrees
The country looks best when it’s down on its knees!

Why enforce laws when the bribery is sweet?
I paused the FCPA, take to the street!
Seventeen IGs I fired in the dark
And dumped all the rubbish in Potomac Park
The loyalty oaths are all signed on the line
The state of the union is perfectly mine.

We padlocked the schools, all the teachers are gone
A trillion in debt makes a beautiful pawn!
Ukraine is abandoned, my pal has the floor
While troops are deployed to the journalists’ door!
The tariffs are taxing the poor to the brink
But look at my ratings, and what do you think?!

Oh the state of the union is beautiful, many people say
I’m selling the airwaves, the country is my prey
The crypto is pumping, the family is paid
It’s the greatest agreement that I ever made
Pam Bondi at Justice agrees
The country looks best when it’s down on its knees!

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Dixieland / Ragtime Revival

Dark Jazz Noir

Punk Cabaret

Trap Swagger

90s SoCal Funk-Rock

Classic Arena Rock

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I created three songs for Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, the first of which was Silence Is Violence. This is the second, envisioning how MLK might view us now, were he alive. (And, you know, the fact that I don’t want to link to anything from the federal goverment because I can’t trust it to be historically accurate really speaks volumes of where we’re at.)

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Lyrics

I said the arc of the moral universe is long
But it bends toward justice; I was wrong
Or maybe just too hopeful, too naive to see
That arc can bend backwards into catastrophe

We marched from Selma’s bridge, we bled for voting rights
Now you purge the voter rolls and close the polls at night
In neighborhoods where Black and brown must wait in longer lines
Tell me how we’re bending toward justice this time

The arc bent backwards, we’re losing ground
Every right we won, you’re tearing down
The arc bent backwards, can you hear the sound?
Of freedom’s footsteps in reverse, of chains being bound

We integrated schools through court-ordered mandate
Now you’ve got segregation by zip code and real estate
School-to-prison pipeline, just slavery with new clothes
Mass incarceration for the crimes that poverty imposes

I died for the Poor People’s Campaign, for economic rights
You gave tax cuts to billionaires and left the poor to fight
Among themselves for scraps while billionaires hoard their wealth
The arc bent backwards into a new Gilded Age itself

We won hard-won battles against separate but equal’s lie
Now you’re bringing back the segregation, just with different battle cry
“Border security,” “law and order,” “making us safe again”;
The same excuses segregationists used back then

We fought to end the wars, to bring the soldiers home
You militarize the border and the police everywhere you roam
Weapons of war in the streets, used against your own
The arc bent backwards into a military zone

I preached nonviolence as the weapon of the strong
You meet peaceful protest with tear gas and batons
Pardon those who storm the Capitol to overturn the vote
While felonizing refugees and letting justice go

The arc bent backwards, can’t you see?
We’re marching toward the past, away from being free
The arc bent backwards; history repeats
When we forget that freedom’s not complete
Until the last of us are free

But arcs can bend again if we apply the weight
Of moral courage, mass resistance before it’s too late
The universe is long, but we don’t have all time
To stop this backwards slide, this regression into crime
Against humanity itself. The arc is ours to bend
The question is: how does this story end?

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Hip Hop

Choral Orchestral

Late 80s Rock

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The next No Kings Day protest is planned for March 28, so of course we need an updated version of the No Kings song. (Versions 1 No Kings and version 2 No Kings, No Crowns). Scroll to the bottom for alternate genres.

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Lyrics

You muzzle comics, silence late-night truth,
Fire the faithful, hire back the brutes
Who stormed the Capitol with fascist dreams,
Nothing’s sacred when you’re building your regime.

No kings, no crowns,
Hell no, we won’t stand down!
No thrones, no golden rings,
We serve the people, not kings.
No kings. (Hell no!)
No kings. Let that tyrant know!

SNAP cards empty, Medicaid denied,
While farmers watch their soybeans rot beside
The markets you destroyed with your tariff war.
Beijing won’t buy what they bought before.

No kings, no crowns,
Hell no, we won’t stand down!
No thrones, no golden rings,
We serve the people, not kings.
No kings. (Hell no!)
No kings. Let that tyrant know!

You destroyed the East Wing for a gilded ballroom floor,
Gatsby parties while we’re lined up at the food bank door;
You razed the People’s House for crystal chandeliers,
Hide the Epstein Files through redactions and smears.

No kings, no crowns,
Hell no, we won’t stand down!
No thrones, no golden rings,
We serve the people, not kings.
No kings. (Hell no!)
No kings. Let that tyrant know!

Your family cashes in while people starve,
Gold-plated grifters always getting large;
Contracts to cronies, justice up for sale,
The swamp’s not drained, it’s increased in scale.

No kings, no crowns,
Hell no, we won’t stand down!
No thrones, no golden rings,
We serve the people, not kings.
No kings. (Hell no!)
No kings. Let that tyrant know!

USAID gutted, world hunger left unchecked,
Antagonize our allies, leave the world a bloody mess;
ICE storms our cities, terrorizes our streets,
Masked thugs in vans where neighbors used to meet.

This ain’t a show, this is sacred ground,
Not your circus, not your crown.
We know a tyrant when he takes the stage;
Hell no, we won’t turn the page!

We will not bend the knee,
We will not prostrate before thee,
We will not sacrifice our dignity,
Because we cherish our liberty.

No kings (No kings!),
No lies (No lies!),
You can’t steal freedom with your battle cries.
No kings (No kings!),
No fear (No fear!),
We’re taking our country back this year.

Who is this band?

Alternate Genres

Southern Rock Anthem

Heartland Rock

Hard Core Punk

Stadium Rock

Hip Hop Protest

New Wave Protest

Outlaw Country

Folk

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