The back of the postcard reads – “Based on research of seven fascist regimes including Hitler’s Nazi Germany and Mussolini’s Italy. The Bush/Cheney regime exhibits all of these traits. Work to stop them while you still can.” -Lawrence W. Britt of Syracuse Cultural Workers

I bought this postcard a couple of months ago at the bookstore Maloprops in Asheville, NC. I also just returned from Asheville a couple of days ago after seeing incredibly inspiring music by The Nightwatchman and Ben Harper. The message is clear. We must all rise from our slumber and become awake, and remain awake. And fight for justice.

The highlight of the evening, for me, was The Nightwatchman joining Ben for an electric rendition of Bob Dylan’s “Masters of War.” The Asheville audience was more than receptive, and it seemed some of the older fans were well aware of the roots behind this powerful song from one of our masters of poetry. The Nightwatchman ripped the guitar to beautiful shreds, at times with his teeth, a la his Rage Against the Machine days. Tom Morello, a.k.a. The Nightwatchman, may very well lead us into our much needed revolution, one man and woman at a time.

Masters of War
Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks

You that never done nothin’
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it’s your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people’s blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

You’ve thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain’t worth the blood
That runs in your veins

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I’m young
You might say I’m unlearned
But there’s one thing I know
Though I’m younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I hope that you die
And your death’ll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I’ll watch while you’re lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I’ll stand o’er your grave
‘Til I’m sure that you’re dead

-Bob Dylan