We're a little late to the party on calling McCain/Palin out on all their hard work firing up the ugliest tendencies in their supporters, but this venture into dub reggae territory is our contribution.
Hounds
We're saying what we're saying, do what you're going to do with it
A slur or a slaying, we've got nothing to do with it
You can phone in contrition, Hollywood Listerine
Wash you mouth with detergent, your hands will never get that clean
'Cause when they call out the hounds there's no calling them back
Without blood on their mouths or a corpse on their backs
And I can hear all the howls for miles around
But it still takes a caller to call out the hounds
Derringers, Berettas, old movie Tommy guns
To finish up a vendetta that you're going to leave undone
No court would convict you, I'll hold you responsible
For an uptick in tension or worse, something far more demonstrable
'Cause when they call out the hounds there's no calling them back
Without blood on their mouths or a corpse on their backs
And I can hear all the howls for miles around
But it still takes a caller to call out the hounds
'Cause when they call out the hounds there's no calling them back
So duck your head out of bounds and brace for attack
Long after it's over, the odor will still stick around
In a faint ugly echo from when you called out the hounds
Max and the Marginalized are a band and a blog. We do a song every week on the Huffington Post, all 53 of which are available for download here at our site. Add us on Facebook or MySpace.