“With every racist pointed finger, I hear the goose steps getting closer”

It’s probably 12 years since I first heard this song. It’s been on my mind today as I’ve been thinking about recent events in Europe. It’s one of those songs that indexes my unfolding life, as I recurrently come back to it and find something slightly new each time. The depressing thought I had earlier was how much less abstract it seems now than it did a decade ago:

Is this what we deserve? 
To scrub the palace floors? 
To fight amongst ourselves, 
as we scramble for the crumbs they spit out? 
Frothing at the mouth about the scapegoats that they’ve chosen for us. 
With every racist pointed finger, I hear the goose steps getting closer. 
They no longer represent us. Is it not our obligation 
to confront this tyranny?

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About Mark