We ain’t scared of no filthy Arabs.
“We ain’t scare of no filthy Arabs, man,”
the homeland security guy told me,
while he was moonlighting guarding
the exclusive country club in Jersey,
“We’re worried about the filthy poor:
the guy whose home the bank just took
because a rich guy needed to build a townhouse,
or the children of the old folks who
social security cuts couldn’t cover
medical costs and let them die,
or the black man who’s a junkie
just like his father and his father before him
because us Republicans cuts funding to
his anti-drug addiction programs,
or the working man who Reagan ripped off
by sending his job overseas leaving him
with a mortgage he can’t pay for and
children who look down on him,
or the mother working three jobs
to keep up with rents she couldn’t afford with ten,
or the cab driver or truck driver or boat repair guy
who can cover the cost of gas because
the rich oil barons keep upping the fees,
or the bread baker put out of business
because of tax incentives Republicans gave
the bread manufacturing plant,
or the farmer whose land the developer stole
with the help of government’s eminent domain,
or the father who can’t see his kids because
some slick lawyer knew the law better than he did,
the frustrated downtrodden and the still bitter and betrayed,
who might want to strike back at us because
we got what they had and they can’t get back.
It ain’t Jews stealing land from Arabs, man,
It’s rich Jews stealing from poor Arabs,
Just like its rich Saudis enslaving poor,
And rich Russians killing poor Soviets
So we don’t have to give back what we took.
Who pays for Bush’s war and the contracts he gives
To his friends, if the rich are getting tax breaks?
We ain’t afraid of the Arabs, man,
We know who they are.
But the poor here don’t need no fake id,
They don’t even need no internet to find where we are
And how to get us,
They know who we are and where we are,
and how to get us,
and you know the worst part, man,
the part that scares the living crap out of me,
is that they look just like us.”