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Lets #meetandgreet on my #tourride #4angles #acousticmusic #november #december #familys #friends #fellowship #musiclover #12songs wanna know #destination ? Please #follow @roycesaayan @nakhoda_alam #facebook Royce Sa'ayan / Rpyce Sa'ayan II / Nakhoda Alam tq
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12 songs - #studiolife #12songs #oilpaintings #traveling #togheter https://www.instagram.com/p/Cia3OCdMi7r/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
The final song from “The Story of the United States in 12 Songs” is “Changes.”Â
chorus: That's just the way it is Things will never be the same That's just the way it is Aww yeah
verses: I see no changes, wake up in the morning and I ask myself Is life worth living? Should I blast myself? I'm tired of bein' poor and even worse I'm black My stomach hurts so I'm lookin' for a purse to snatch Cops give a damn about a negro Pull the trigger, kill a n*****, he's a hero Give the crack to the kids, who the hell cares? One less hungry mouth on the welfare First ship 'em dope and let 'em deal to brothers Give 'em guns, step back, watch 'em kill each other “It's time to fight back,” that's what Huey said Two shots in the dark now Huey's dead I got love for my brother, but we can never go nowhere Unless we share with each other We gotta start makin' changes Learn to see me as a brother instead of two distant strangers And that's how it's supposed to be How can the Devil take a brother if he's close to me? I'd love to go back to when we played as kids But things changed, and that's the way it is
I see no changes, all I see is racist faces Misplaced hate makes disgrace to races We under, I wonder what it takes to make this One better place, let's erase the wasted Take the evil out the people, they'll be acting right 'Cause both black and white is smokin' crack tonight And only time we chill is when we kill each other It takes skill to be real, time to heal each other And although it seems heaven-sent We ain't ready to see a black president It ain't a secret, don't conceal the fact The penitentiary's packed, and it's filled with blacks But some things will never change Try to show another way, but you stayin' in the dope game Now tell me, what's a mother to do? Bein' real don't appeal to the brother in you You gotta operate the easy way "I made a G today," but you made it in a sleazy way Sellin' crack to the kids. "I gotta get paid" Well hey, well that's the way it is
We gotta make a change It's time for us as a people to start makin' some changes. Let's change the way we eat, let's change the way we live And let's change the way we treat each other You see the old way wasn't working So it's on us to do what we gotta do to survive And still I see no changes; can't a brother get a little peace It's war on the streets, and the war in the Middle East Instead of war on poverty they got a war on drugs So the police can bother me And I ain't never did a crime I ain't have to do But now I'm back with the blacks givin' it back to you Don't let 'em jack you up, back you up Crack you up and pimp smack you up You gotta learn to hold your own They get jealous when they see you with your mobile phone But tell the cops they can't touch this I don't trust this when they try to rush I bust this That's the sound of my tool You say it ain't cool, my mama didn't raise no fool And as long as I stay black, I gotta stay strapped And I never get to lay back 'Cause I always got to worry 'bout the paybacks Some buck that I roughed up way back Comin' back after all these years “Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat,” that's the way it is
The 12th and final song from “The Story of the United States in 12 Songs” is “Changes.” The G.I. Bill afforded the same benefits to veterans of all races after World War II. However, for most of the 1.2 million African American veterans, the promise of the G.I. Bill was an illusion. Veterans Administration job counselors often steered African Americans toward vocational training instead of universities. Through discriminatory practices known as redlining, banks denied them home loans, despite federal guarantees. Many of the new suburban neighborhoods would not sell homes to African Americans. As white families fled urban centers, inner city demographics skewed more heavily African American and Latino, while suburbs were generally white and increasingly affluent. Beginning in 1969, generations of U.S. policymakers rolled back the New Deal, Fair Deal, and Great Society safety nets that supported the expansion of the U.S. middle class across all races. Tax cuts shrank budgets for welfare programs and reduced bureaucratic oversight. The turn toward small government and supply-side economics contributed to a widening of the wealth gap and shrinking of the middle class that took place over the late-twentieth and early-twenty-first centuries. Minority communities felt the brunt of these negative dynamics. In his 1998 song “Changes,” rapper 2Pac (Tupac Shakur) uses audio samples from Bruce Hornsby and the Range's 1986 hit "The Way It Is" to reaffirm and bring new perspectives to the message of outrage at systemic racism and income inequality. Despite the challenges presented within, the song ultimately expresses optimism that change is in the hands of the people, if it is their will to make it happen.
Song #11 from “The Story of the United States in 12 Songs” is “Little Boxes.”
Little boxes on the hillside Little boxes made of ticky tacky Little boxes on the hillside Little boxes all the same There's a green one and a pink one And a blue one and a yellow one And they're all made out of ticky tacky And they all look just the same
And the people in the houses All went to the university Where they were put in boxes And they came out all the same And there's doctors and lawyers And business executives And they're all made out of ticky tacky And they all look just the same
And they all play on the golf course And drink their martinis dry And they all have pretty children And the children go to school And the children go to summer camp And then to the university Where they are put in boxes And they come out all the same
And the boys go into business And marry and raise a family In boxes made of ticky tacky And they all look just the same There's a pink one and a green one And a blue one and a yellow one And they're all made out of ticky tacky And they all look just the same
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Song #11 from “The Story of the United States in 12 Songs” is “Little Boxes.” Through the course of the twentieth century, cities expanded their footprints as subways, streetcars, and the automobile allowed Americans to live further from their places of employment. Easier access to credit fueled this suburban growth early in the century, but the Great Depression dampened the previously booming credit and real estate markets. Following the Second World War, suburbs experienced unprecedented growth into urban hinterlands. Much of this growth was a result of the Servicemen’s Readjustment Act of 1944, also known as the G.I. Bill, which guaranteed home loans for war veterans. As the demand for suburban housing increased, developers like Levitt & Sons applied factory assembly line processes to the construction of houses, resulting in similar or identical dwellings. Malvina Reynolds’ 1962 song “Little Boxes” conjures stereotypes of “cookie-cutter” homes and people in a homogenous and un-adaptive subdivision marked by sprawling lawns and cul-de-sacs.
Song #10 from “The Story of the United States in 12 Songs” is “If You Miss Me From the Back of the Bus.” It was written by civil rights activist Charles Neblett in 1962 after an African American man drowned while swimming in the Mississippi River, having been denied the right to use the public swimming pool.
If you miss me from the back of the bus And you can’t find me nowhere Come on up to the front of the bus I’ll be riding up there
I’ll be riding up there I’ll be riding up there Come on up to the front of the bus I’ll be riding up there
If you miss me from the Mississippi River And you can’t find me nowhere Come on over to the swimmin’ pool I’ll be swimmin’ over there
I’ll be swimmin’ over there I’ll be swimmin’ over there Come on over to the swimmin’ pool I’ll be swimmin’ over there
If you miss me from Jackson State And you can’t find me nowhere Come on over to Old Miss I’ll be learning right there
I’ll be learning right there I’ll be learning right there Come on over to Old Miss I’ll be learning right there
If you miss me from the picket lines And you can’t find me nowhere Come on down to the jailhouse I’ll be rooming right there
I’ll be rooming right there I’ll be rooming right there Come on down to the jailhouse I’ll be rooming right there
If you miss me from the cotton fields And you can’t find me nowhere Come on down to the courthouse I’ll be votin’ right there
I’ll be votin’ right there I’ll be votin’ right there Come on down to the courthouse I’ll be votin’ right there
Song #9 from “The Story of the United States in 12 Songs” is “Deportee (Plane Wreck at Los Gatos),” a song about the dehumanizing way the news media referred to Mexican migrant workers killed in an airplane crash on January 28, 1948.
chorus: Goodbye to my Juan, goodbye Rosalita Adios mis amigos, Jesus y Maria You won't have a name when you ride the big airplane All they will call you will be "deportees"
verses: The crops are all in and the peaches are rotting The oranges are piled in their creosote dumps They're flying them back to the Mexican border To pay all their money to wade back again
Some of us are illegal, and some are not wanted Our work contract's out and we have to move on Six hundred miles to that Mexican border They chase us like outlaws, like rustlers, like thieves
My father's own father, he waded that river They took all the money he made in his life My brothers and sisters come working the fruit trees And they rode the truck till they took down and died
We died in your hills; we died in your deserts We died in your valleys and died on your plains We died 'neath your trees and we died in your bushes Both sides of the river, we died just the same
The sky plane caught fire over Los Gatos Canyon A fireball of lightning, and shook all our hills Who are all these friends, all scattered like dry leaves The radio says, "They are just deportees"
Is this the best way we can grow our big orchards? Is this the best way we can grow our good fruit? To fall like dry leaves to rot on my topsoil And be called by no name except "deportees"?
