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They beat him... they beat him good!
In ragged oil-stained jeans
He ran for his life
What had he stolen?
What had he done?
Through muddy oil-stained puddles
He ran for his life
What crime did he commit?
What deed did he do?
The assailants caught him
And beat his face to a bloody mess
They dragged him back
To the scene of the crime
For the public lynching
That was to take place
In a chauffer-driven pool car
I passed by with my indifference
Why didn't I stop?
Why didn't I intervene?
Through puddles negated by my chauffer
I passed by with my indifference
Why didn't I care?
Why didn't I look back?
The chauffer delivered me
And appeased my concerns
He drove us back
To our heavily guarded office
For a silent and anonymous
Protest... that never took place
