March, the freedom highway. March, each and every day
March, the freedom highway. March, each and every day

Made up my mind, and I won’t turn around
Made up my mind, and I won’t turn around
There is just one thing, I don’t understand
Why some folks think that freedom, is not for every one

March, the freedom highway. March, each and every day
March, the freedom highway. March, each and every day

Yes, we want peace. If it can be found
Marching freedom highway, never turn around

So march, the freedom highway. March, each and every day
March, the freedom highway. March, each and every day

Made up my mind, and I won’t turn around
Made up my mind, and I won’t turn around
There is just one thing, I don’t understand
Why some folks think that freedom, is not for every one

March, the freedom highway. March, each and every day
March, the freedom highway. March, each and every day

Written by Roebuck Staples
Published by Staples Music (BMI)

Kenrick: drums / Horace: electric stand-up bass / Lynval: guitar / Steve: guitar / Nikolaj: harmonica, piano / Terry: singing / Hannah: singing

Everybody knows that the dice are loaded
Everybody rolls with their fingers crossed
Everybody knows the war is over
Everybody knows the good guys lost
Everybody knows the fight was fixed
The poor stay poor, the rich get rich
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that the boat is leaking
Everybody knows that the captain lied
Everybody got this broken feeling
Like their father or their dog just died
Everybody talking to their pockets
Everybody wants a box of chocolates
And a long-stem rose
Everybody knows

Everybody knows that you love me baby
Everybody knows that you really do
Everybody knows that you’ve been faithful
Ah, give or take a night or two
Everybody knows you’ve been discreet
But there were so many people you just had to meet
Without your clothes
And everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows

And everybody knows that it’s now or never
Everybody knows that it’s me or you
And everybody knows that you live forever
Ah, when you’ve done a line or two
Everybody knows the deal is rotten
Old Black Joe’s still pickin’ cotton
For your ribbons and bows
And everybody knows

And everybody knows that the plague
is coming
Everybody knows that it’s moving fast
Everybody knows that the naked man and woman
Are just a shining artifact of the past
Everybody knows the scene is dead
But there’s gonna be a meter on your bed
That will disclose
What everybody knows

And everybody knows that you’re in trouble
Everybody knows what you’ve been through
From the bloody cross on top of Calvary
To the beach of Malibu
Everybody knows it’s coming apart
Take one last look at this Sacred Heart
Before it blows
And everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows

Everybody knows, everybody knows
That’s how it goes
Everybody knows
Everybody knows
Everybody knows

Written by Sharon Robinson and Leonard Cohen
Published by Sony Music Publishing LLC (BMI), EMI April
Music, Inc. (ASCAP)

Kenrick: drums / Horace: Fender bass / Lynval: guitar / Steve: guitar / Nikolaj: piano, melodica / Terry: singing / Hannah: singing

I don’t mind failing in this world
I don’t mind failing in this world
Don’t mind wearing the ragged britches
‘Cause those who succeed are the sons of bitches
I don’t mind failing in this world

I don’t mind failing in this world
I don’t mind failing in this world
I’ll stay down here with the raggedy crew
‘Cause getting up there means stepping on you, so
I don’t mind failing in this world

I don’t mind failing in this world
I don’t mind failing in this world
Somebody else’s measuring scale of
Win or lose doesn’t tell the tail, so
I don’t mind failing in this world

I don’t mind failing in this world
I don’t mind failing in this world
Somebody else’s definition
Isn’t going to measure my soul’s condition
I don’t mind failing in this world

I don’t mind failing in this world
I don’t mind failing in this world
Never mind the custom suits
The gentle hearts wear the dusty boots,
so I don’t mind failing in this world

I don’t mind failing in this world
I don’t mind failing in this world
Some people ride in a car so fine
While others walk on a picket line, so
I don’t mind failing in this world

I don’t mind failing in this world
I don’t mind failing in this world
Don’t mind wearing the ragged britches
‘Cause those who succeed are the sons of bitches
I don’t mind failing in this world

Written by Malvina Reynolds
Published by Schroder Music Company (ASCAP)

Kenrick: percussion / Horace: double bass / Lynval: acoustic guitar / Steve: nylon-string guitar / Nikolaj: Taishogoto (Nagoya harp), glockenspiel, mellotron, half-speed harmonium / Terry: singing

This little song I’m singing about
People you know it’s true
If you’re black and got to work for a living
This is what they say to you

They say if you white, should be all right
If you brown, stick around
But if you’re black, oh brother, get back, get back, get back

I was in a place one night
They were having fun
They were drinking beer and wine
But they would not sell me none

They say if you white, should be all right
If you brown, stick around
But if you’re black, oh brother, get back, get back, get back

Me and a man was working side by side
This is what it meant
They were paying him a dollar an hour
And paying me fifty cent

They say if you white, should be all right
If you brown, stick around
But if you’re black, oh boy, get back, get back, get back

I went to an employment office
Got a number and I got in line
They called everybody’s number
But they never did call mine

They say if you’re white, should be all right
If you brown, stick around
But if you’re black, oh brother, get back, get back, get back

I helped build this country
And I fought for it too
Now I guess that you can see
What a black man has to do

They say if you’re white, should be all right
If you’re brown, stick around
But if you’re black, oh brother, get back, get back, get back

I win sweet victory
With my plough and hoe
Now, brother, you tell me
Whatcha gonna do ‘bout the old Jim Crow

If you’re white, should be all right
If you’re brown, stick around
But if you’re black, oh brother, get back, get back, get back

Written by Big Bill Broonzy
Published by Warner Chappell Overseas Holdings Limited
(obo Warner Chappell Music France) (PRS)

Kenrick: drums / Horace: double bass / Nikolaj: banjopiano / Steve: guitar / Lynval: singing

Ain’t gonna let nobody, turn me round, turn me round, turn me round
Ain’t gonna let nobody, turn me round
I’m gonna keep on walkin’, keep on talkin’
Marching down to freedom land

Ain’t gonna let no hatred, turn me round, turn me round, turn me round
Ain’t gonna let no hatred, turn me round
I’m gonna keep on walkin’, keep on talkin’
Marching down to freedom land

Ain’t gonna let nobody, turn me round, turn me round, turn me round
Ain’t gonna let nobody, turn me round
I’m gonna keep on walkin’, keep on talkin’
Marching down to freedom land

Ain’t gonna let no fascist, turn me round, turn me round, turn me round
Ain’t gonna let no fascist, turn me round
I’m gonna keep on walkin’, keep on talkin’
Marching down to freedom land

Ain’t gonna let segregation, turn me round, turn me round, turn me round
Ain’t gonna let segregation, turn me round
I’m gonna keep on walkin’, keep on talkin’
Marching down to freedom land

Ain’t gonna let nobody, turn me round, turn me round, turn me round
Ain’t gonna let nobody, turn me round
I’m gonna keep on walkin’, keep on talkin’
Marching down to freedom land

Ain’t gonna let no racist, turn me round, turn me round, turn me round
Ain’t gonna let no racist, turn me round
I’m gonna keep on walkin’, keep on talkin’
Marching down to freedom land

Ain’t gonna let nobody, turn me round, turn me round, turn me round
Ain’t gonna let nobody, turn me round
I’m gonna keep on walkin’, keep on talkin’
Marching down to freedom land

Written by Traditional
Original title ‘Don’t You Let Nobody Turn You Around’

Kenrick: drums, clapping, singing / Horace: electric bass, 8-string bass, clapping, vocal / Lynval: guitar, clapping, singing / Steve: guitar, clapping, singing / Nikolaj: Philicorda organ, stamping, clapping, singing / Terry: singing

To be or not to be
To free or not to free
To crawl or not to crawl
Fuck all those perfect people

To sleep or not to sleep
To creep or not to creep
And some can’t remember what others recall
Fuck all those perfect people

Sleepy eyes, waltzing through
No, I’m not talking ‘bout you

To stand or not to stand
To plan or not to plan
To store or not to store
Fuck all those perfect people

To drink or not to drink
To think or not to think
Some choose to dismember your rise and your fall
And fuck all those perfect people

Sleepy eyes, waltzing through
And I’m not talking ‘bout you

To sing or not to sing
To swing or not to swing
Hell fills up the silence like chalk on a wall
Fuck all the perfect people

To pray or not to pray
To sway or not to sway
Jesus died for something, or nothing at all
Fuck all those perfect people

Sleepy eyes, waltzing through
I’m not talking ‘bout you

Written by James Wesley Voight
Published by Back Road Music, Inc. (BMI)

Kenrick: drums / Horace: Fender bass / Lynval: guitar / Steve: guitar, acoustic guitar / Nikolaj: piano, singing / Terry: singing

You know my next door neighbor, about to make me lose my mind
You know my next door neighbor, about to make me lose my mind
Come knock on my door, want to borrow something all the time

They want to borrow the broom, they want to borrow the mop
They want to know the time so they borrow the clock
They want to borrow some lard and a piece of meat
They want to borrow some sugar to make the coffee sweet
They want to borrow two dollars until payday
They want to borrow liniment to take the pain away

You know my next door neighbor, about to make me lose my mind
Come knock on my door, want to borrow something all the time

They want to watch the fight and try to pick a winner
They borrow my TV, come back and get my dinner
They borrow an ironing board, an electric fan
They borrow a vacuum cleaner and a garbage can
They borrow knife, fork, spoon and plate
They borrow the calendar off the wall to keep them up to date

You know my next door neighbor, about to make me lose my mind
Come knock on my door, want to borrow something all the time

They knock on my door and say howdy do friend
They want to borrow a suit to bury grandpa in
I stood up there and I shook my head
I believe you people would borrow from the dead
Borrowing’s all right but it’s a matter of fact
People like to borrow but they won’t pay back

You know my next door neighbor, about to make me lose my mind
Come knock on my door, want to borrow something all the time

Written by Jerry McCain
Published by Embassy Music Corp (BMI)

Kenrick: drums / Horace: Fender bass / Lynval: guitar / Steve: guitar / Nikolaj: piano / Terry: singing

Well I’m about to get sick, from watching my TV
Checking out the news, until my eyeballs fail to see
I mean they say that every day, is just a rotten mess
And when it’s gonna change my friend is anybody’s guess

So I’m watchin’ and I’m waitin’, hopin’ for the best
Even think I’ll go to prayin’, every time I hear them sayin’
No way to delay that trouble coming every day
No way to delay that trouble coming every day

Wednesday I watched the riot, seen the cops out on the street
Watched them throwing rocks and stuff and choking in the heat
Listened to reports about the whisky passin’ round
Seen the smoke and fire and the market burning down
Watched while everybody on his street would take a turn
To stomp and smash and bash and crash and slash and bust and burn

And I’m watchin’ and I’m waitin’, hopin’ for the best
Even think I’ll go to prayin’, every time I hear them sayin’
That there’s no way to delay that trouble comin’ every day
No way to delay that trouble comin’ every day

Well I seen the fires burnin’, the local people turnin’
On the merchants and the shops, who used to sell them
brooms and mops
And every other household item, watched the mob just turn
and bite them
And they say it served them right, because a few of them were white
And it’s the same across the nation, black and white discrimination
Yellin’, “you can’t understand me”, and all that other jazz they hand me
In the papers and TV, and all that mass stupidity
That seems to grow more every day,
each time you hear some nitwit say
He wants to go and do you in, because the colour of his skin
Just don’t appeal to him

You know we got to sit around at home and watch us think again
But I bet there won’t be many left to see it really end
Because the fire in the street ain’t like the fire in the heart
And in the eyes of all these people don’t you know that it could start
On any street, in any town, in any state, if any clown
Decides that now’s the time is right, for some ideal he thinks is right
And if a million more agree, there ain’t no great society
As it applies to you and me, our country isn’t free
And the law refuse to see, if all that you can ever be
Is just a lousy janitor, unless your uncle owns a store
You know that five in every four, won’t amount to nothin’ more
Than watch rats go across the floor, and make up songs about the poor
So I’m watchin’ and I’m waitin’, hopin’ for the best
Even think I’ll go to prayin’ every time I hear them sayin’
That there’s no way to delay that trouble comin’ every day
No way to delay that trouble comin’ every day

Written by Frank Zappa
Published by Munchkin Music Co. C/O Kobalt Songs Music Publishing (ASCAP)

Kenrick: drums / Horace: Fender bass / Lynval: guitar / Steve: guitar / Nikolaj: guitar, piano / Terry: singing

Mojique sees his village from a nearby hill
Mojique thinks of days before Americans came
He sees the foreigners in growing numbers
He sees the foreigners in fancy houses
He thinks of days that he can still remember, now

Mojique holds a package in his quivering hands
Mojique sends the package to the American man
Softly he glides along the streets and alleys
Up comes the wind that makes them run for cover
He feels the time is surely now or never, more

The wind in my heart
The wind in my heart
The dust in my head
The dust in my head
The wind in my heart
The wind in my heart (come to)
Drive them away
Drive them away

The wind in my heart
The wind in my heart
The dust in my head
The dust in my head
The wind in my heart
The wind in my heart (come to)
Drive them away
Drive them away

Mojique buys equipment in the market place
Mojique plants devices in the Free Trade Zone
He feels the wind is lifting up his people
He calls the wind to guide him on his mission
He knows his friend the wind is always standing, by

Mojique smells the wind that comes from far away
Mojique waits for news in a quiet place
He feels the presence of the wind around him
He feels the power of the past behind him
He has the knowledge of the wind to guide him, on

The wind in my heart
The wind in my heart
The dust in my head
The dust in my head
The wind in my heart
The wind in my heart (come to)
Drive them away
Drive them away

The wind in my heart
The wind in my heart
The dust in my head
The dust in my head
The wind in my heart
The wind in my heart
Drive them away

Written by Brian Eno, Chris Frantz, David Byrne, Jerry Harrison, Tina Weymouth
Published by Bleu Disque Music Co, Inc. (ASCAP), BMG Songs Limited (PRS)

Kenrick: fundo, drums / Michael ‘Bammie’ Rose: repeater / Tony ‘Groco’ Uter’: bass drum / Horace: Fender bass / Tim Smart: trombone, bass trombone / Pablo Mendelssohn: flugelhorn / Jim Hunt: tenor sax, baritone sax / Lynval: guitar / Terry: singing / Hannah: singing / Nikolaj: Dulcitone, singing

I live in a city, yes I do
I live in a city, yes I do
I live in a city, yes I do
Made by human hands

Black hands, white hands, yellow and brown
All together built this town
Black hands, white hands, yellow and brown
All together makes the wheels go ‘round

I live in a city, yes I do
I live in a city, yes I do
I live in a city, yes I do
Made by human hands

Brown hands, yellow hands, white and black
Mined the coal and built the stack
Brown hands, yellow hands, white and black
Built the engine and laid the track

I live in a city, yes I do
I live in a city, yes I do
I live in a city, yes I do
Made by human hands

Black hands, brown hands, yellow and white
Built the buildings tall and bright
Black hands, brown hands, yellow and white
Filled them all with shining light

I live in a city, yes I do
I live in a city, yes I do
I live in a city, yes I do
Made by human hands

Black hands, white hands, brown and tan
Milled the flour and clean the pan
Black hands, white hands, brown and tan
The working woman and the working man

I live in a city, yes I do
I live in a city, yes I do
I live in a city, yes I do
Made by human hands

Written by Malvina Reynolds
Published by Schroder Music Company (ASCAP)

Kenrick: percussion / Horace: double bass / Steve: acoustic guitar / Nikolaj: banjopiano / Terry: singing / Lynval: singing / Hannah: singing

Soldiers who wanna be heroes
Number practically zero
But there are millions
Who wanna be civilians

Soldiers who wanna be
Heroes number practically zero
But there are millions
Who wanna be civilians

Come and take my eldest son
Show him how to shoot a gun
Wipe his eyes if he starts to cry
When the bullets fly

Give him a rifle, take his hoe
Show him a field where he can go
To lay his body down and die
Without asking why

Soldiers who wanna be heroes
Number practically zero
But there are millions
Who wanna be civilians

Soldiers who wanna be
Heroes number practically zero
But there are millions
Who wanna be civilians

Sticks and stones can break your bones
Even names can hurt you
But the thing that hurts the most
Is when a man deserts you
Don’t you think it’s time to weed
The leaders that no longer lead
From the people of the land
Who’d like to see their sons again?

Soldiers who wanna be
Heroes number practically zero
But there are millions
Who wanna be civilians

Soldiers who wanna be
Heroes number practically zero
But there are millions
Who wanna be civilians

God if men could only see
The lessons taught by history
That all the singers of this song
Cannot right a single wrong

Let all men of good will
Stay in the fields they have to till
Feed the mouths they have to fill
And cast away their arms

Soldiers who wanna be
Heroes number practically zero
But there are millions
Who wanna be civilians

Soldiers who wanna be
Heroes number practically zero
But there are millions
Who wanna be civilians

Soldiers who wanna be
Heroes number practically zero
But there are millions
Who wanna be civilians

Soldiers who wanna be
Heroes number practically zero
But there are millions
Who wanna be civilians

Soldiers who wanna be
Heroes number practically zero

Written by Rod McKuen
Published by Editions Chanson Music
C/O Della Blue Music (ASCAP)

Kenrick: drums / Horace: Hofner bass / Steve: parlor guitar / Nikolaj: banjopiano, accordion, piano, vocal / Terry: singing / Lynval: singing

Get up, stand up, stand up for your rights
Get up, stand up, stand up for your rights
Get up, stand up, don’t give up the fight

Preacher man, don’t tell me
Heaven is under the earth
I know that you don’t know
What life is really worth
He said, “all that glitters is gold”
Half the story, have never been told
So now you see the light
Stand up for your rights

Get up, stand up, stand up for your rights
Get up, stand up, stand up for your rights
Get up, stand up, don’t give up the fight

People think that great god
Will come from the sky
Take away everything
And make everybody feel high
If you know what life is worth
You will look right here on earth And now you see the light
You’re gonna stand up for your right

Get up, stand up, stand up for your rights
Get up, stand up, stand up for your rights
Get up, stand up, don’t give up the fight

We’re sick and tired of your ism – schism game
Dying to go to heaven in Jesus’ name
We know we understand, Almighty God is a living man
You can fool some people sometimes
But you can’t fool all the people all the time
So now you see the light
We’re gonna stand up for our right

Get up, stand up, stand up for your rights
Get up, stand up, stand up for your rights
Get up, stand up, don’t give up the fight

Written by Bob Marley, Peter Tosh
Published by Campbell Connelly and Co Ltd / Blue Mountain Music Ltd /
Reservoir Media Management Inc at PRS.

Steve: acoustic guitar / Lynval: singing