The Men in the Parade

The men in the parade are pigs
They're garbage carriers
They're destruction and death
And they come

They come on Sundays

That's not a meaningful thing
That's not a commentary
That's not me trying to say something
Without saying it

Because when I wanna say something
You damn well better believe
I say it

The men in the parade
Will not look you in the eye
But they will shoot you

Believe you, me
They will shoot you

They ride with their chins up high
And their eyes forward
Because it makes them feel like they're part of a shell
A shell of a thing
Greater than what they are

The minute you make them feel vulnerable
They call out the pack
And suddenly you're standing in the street
Facing down a shotgun

So you should be careful
Not to be brave

A dead man's bravery ain't worth nothin' to nobody
And you should keep that in mind

And they come on Sunday

And the preacher ain't one of the men in the parade
But he blesses the men in the parade
And he says it's because he blesses everybody
But I would hope he wouldn't bless the devil
If he came riding through town
But maybe he would
Who knows?

All I know is they come on Sunday
And the preacher watches
On the sidewalks
With the rest of us
And when it comes time for him to say his sermons
He don't say nothin' about the men in the parade

Now maybe he should
And maybe he shouldn't
But the point is he doesn't
And I'm not saying anything about that
One way or the other
But nevertheless, nothing is said

The men in the parade will not say who they are
Despite the fact that they claim
They have nothing to be ashamed about

They say they're a club
An order
A group
A league
A faction
A collective

They can't read books
So they burn 'em

They can't understand
So they dictate

They can't create
So they destroy

If you were to research animals in the wild
You would find that the scrawniest
Nastiest, most repulsive members
Of the animal kingdom
Are scavengers

And the men in the parade
Are scavengers

They're an awful lot of things
But they're the least of what they are
Which is men

They can be distinguished as men
But they are not distinguished
Or really men, at all

They're simply floats in a parade
As far as I'm concerned

And little boy, your Daddy is one of them

Now, as your grandfather
It is not my place to say
What kind of man your father is
Or isn't, but he has made a choice
And that choice is to be one of those men
In that parade

It is not my place
As your grandfather
The father of your mother
May she rest in peace
To tell you what to think of your father
Or what kind of man he is
Or what it says about him
That he rides in a parade
With a mask over his face
Wearing his ignorance like a medal of honor

As someone who was awarded the medal of honor in his time
It offends me to see a man be proud
Of his own foolishness

Cowardice offends me even more

I had asked the preacher to speak with you
And your father
But the preacher made it abundantly clear to me
That he does not speak
About such things
Nor is it his place to get involved in
What he calls--

'Family matters'

I pointed out to him that he's perfectly willing
To get involved in 'financial matters'
When I put that new roof on the church
But that was as much as I said
Aside from a few choice words
That you will not hear from your grandfather

So since the preacher will not talk to you
And since I would feel inappropriate commenting on what it means
To have your father be one of the men in the parade

I am merely going to comment
On what it would mean for you
If you were to become
One of those men

You see your father makes a meager living

I suppose he could make a better one
But his 'hobbies' take up a good deal of his time

So you and he are sustained on my earnings
Which is fine, since you are my only grandson
And your mother was my only child

But one day your father will be gone
And so will I
Because that is life
And when he is gone
You will still be taken care of
By my earnings
Because they are expansive enough to provide for you
Long after I am gone

That is, of course, in the event
That you do not become of the men in the parade

A boy should be able to admire his father
And you may, if you like
But if you do, I will have nothing to do with you
And I mean that, painful though it would be for me
You would not be my grandson anymore

I will not have one of those men
In my family
Nor will I fill one of their pockets
Even if the pocket belongs to you

So it's up to you

Who you become
What you believe
What you do
And how you do it

But your mother didn't like your father marching in that parade
And she'd like you doing it even less
And she made that very clear to me
Before she died

So in addition to cutting you off
If you ever put one of those masks over your head
I will beat you until I feel some sense knock loose
And I hope you're clear about that
Because I'm never going to repeat any of it again
And I'm just going to have to hope
That you have my iron memory bank
Locked away in that head of yours

Now, let's watch the parade

And whatever you do
Don't go trying to figure out
Which one he is

Because you won't find him
No matter how hard you look