mike helm's music and so on

hey sloganeer

the bios all breezed over your midian years
spent obscuring on that sheep ranch
your boom box filled with dust
d batteries corroding in the arrid atmosphere
from the creeds of believers to the screeds of the fans
the tablets on the mountain the tele in your hands
a prophet and a poet from the wrong side of the tracks
you’re a squatter in a palace
you’re a prince in a boarded-up shack

it’s a mighty long walk and if music could talk
now i think i know what it would say
show your best when you’re pressed at the gates of the west
someone always has to lead the parade

from cairo to the king’s road from midian to armagiddeon
from sinai to brixton the story of that shepherd’s bush flame
was bundled with your name
the journalists were drawn to the flame of your fame
the spotlight on your searchlight
calling tunes and naming names
the chosen son the people’s man the hired gun the open hand
living legend pirate station mouthpiece of your generation

the flame you saw took the fight to the law
and opened up your final career
break off the locks have a drink from the rock
i feel like i can taste it from here
hey sloganeer

the reverb on your vocal set for maximum decay
from london to the nile from nebo to la
from the red sea sand to electric ladyland
i hear it ringing everywhere and i could swear
that you were somewhere near
and we could use you now
we sure could benefit from a voice of impassioned sincerity
in which doubt is not an issue
i wish you were here

lay down the laws and tear down the walls
before your hometown goes down the drain
lift up your hands view the promise land
at the end of life’s mystery train
we danced in the heat to that crooked crooked beat
and found it all over too soon
the glow on your face seemed to light up the place
and later by the light of the moon the word stayed with me