Woman is the nigger of the world
Yes she is...think about it
Woman is the nigger of the world
Think about it...do something about it

We make her paint her face and dance
If she won't be a slave, we say that she don't love us
If she's real, we say she's trying to be a man
While putting her down, we pretend that she's above us

Woman is the nigger of the world...yes she is

There may not be much difference
Between Chairman Mao and Richard Nixon
If we strip them naked

There may not be much difference
Between Marilyn Monroe and Lenny Bruce
If we check their coffins

There may not be much difference
Between White House and Hall of People
If we count their windows

There may not be much difference
Between Raquel Welch and Jerry Rubin
If we hear their heartbeat

If you had the luck of the Irish
You'd be sorry and wish you were dead
You should have the luck of the Irish
And you'd wish you was English instead!

A thousand years of torture and hunger
Drove the people away from their land
A land full of beauty and wonder
Was raped by the British brigands! Goddamn! Goddamn!

If you could keep voices like flowers
There'd be shamrock all over the world

Well it was Sunday bloody Sunday
When they shot the people there
The cries of thirteen martyrs
Filled the Free Derry air
Is there any one amongst you
Dare to blame it on the kids?
Not a soldier boy was bleeding
When they nailed the coffin lids!

Sunday bloody Sunday
Bloody Sunday's the day!

You claim to be majority
Well you know that it's a lie
You're really a minority
On this sweet emerald isle

We lost our green land
We lost our clean air
We lost our true wisdom
And we live in despair

Sisters, O sisters
Lets stand up right now
It's never too late
To start from the start

Wisdom, O wisdom
That's what we ask for
And yes, my dear sisters
We must learn to ask

Wisdom, O wisdom
That's what we ask for
That's what we live for now

Wisdom, O wisdom
That's what we ask for

Standing on the corner
Just me and Yoko Ono
We was waiting for Jerry to land
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand
Singing, Have a marijuana if you can
His name was David Peel
And we found that he was real
He sang, The Pope smokes dope every day
Up come a policeman shoved us up the street
Singing, Power to the people today!

New York City...New York City...New York City

It ain't fair, John Sinclair
In the stir for breathing air
Won't you care for John Sinclair?
In the stir for breathing air
Let him be, set him free
Let him be like you and me

They gave him ten for two
What else can the judges do?
Gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta, gotta set him free

If he'd been a soldier man

We're born in a prison
Raised in a prison
Sent to a prison called school

We cry in a prison
We love in a prison
We dream in a prison like fools

Wood becomes a flute when it's loved
Reach for yourself and your battered mates
Mirror becomes a razor when it's broken
Look in the mirror and see your shattered fate

We live with no reason
Kicked around for no reason

What a waste of human power
What a waste of human lives
Shoot the prisoners in the towers
Forty-three poor widowed wives

Attica State, Attica State, we're all mates with Attica State

Media blames it on the prisoners
But the prisoners did not kill
Rockefeller pulled the trigger
That is what the people feel

Attica State, Attica State, we're all mates with Attica State

Sister, there's a wind that never dies
Sister, we're breathing together
Sister, our love and hopes forever keep on moving oh so slowly in the world

They gave you sunshine
They gave you sea
They gave you everything but the jailhouse key
They gave you coffee
They gave you tea
They gave you everything but equality

Angela, can you hear the earth is turning?
Angela, the world watches you