Lyrics Word Game - Stephen Stills

Would you knock a man down if you don't like the cut of his clothes?
Could you put a man away if you don't want to hear what he knows?
Well, it's happening right here, people dying of fear by the droves
And I know most of you either don't believe it's true
Or else you don't know what to do or maybe I'm singing about you
Who knows?
It's incredibly sick, you can feel it as across the land it flows
Prejudice is slick, when it's a word game it festers and grows
Move along quick, it furthers one to have somewhere to go
You can feel it as it's rumblin', let emotions keep a-tumblin'
Then as cities start to crumblin', mostly empty bellies grumblin'
Here we go
People see somebody different, fear is the first reaction shown
Then they think they've got him licked, the barbaric hunt begins
And they move in slow
A human spirit is devoured, the remains left to carrion crow
I was told that life is change and yet history remains
Does it always stay the same?
Do we shrug it off and say, "Only God knows"?
By and by, somebody usually goes
Down to the ghetto, try and help
But they don't know why folks treat them cold
And the rich keep getting richer
And the rest of us just keep getting old
You see, one must have a mission in order to be a good Christian
If you don't, you will be missing High Mass or the evening show
And the well fed masters reap the harvests
Of the polluted seeds they've sown
Smug and self-righteous, they bitch about people they own
And you can't prove them wrong
They're so God damn sure they know
I have seen these things with my very own eyes
And defended my battered soul, it must be too tough to die
American propaganda, South African lies
Will not force me to take up arms, that's my enemies' pride
And I won't fight by his rules, that's foolishness besides
His ignorance is gonna do him in and nobody's gonna cry
Because his children they are growing up
And plainly tired of putting up with bigots and their silver cups
They're fed up, they might throw up on you, alright