CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : Report from the Skull’s Diorama
Dr. King's photograph
comes at me from White Nights
like Hoover's imagination at work,
dissolving into a scenario
at Firebase San Juan Hill:
our chopper glides in closer,
down to the platoon of black GIs
back from night patrol
with five dead. Down
into a gold whirl of leaves
dust-deviling the fire base.
A field of black trees
stakes down the morning sun.
With the chopper blades
knife-fighting the air,
yellow leaflets quiver
back to the ground, clinging to us.
These men have lost their tongues,
but the red-borderеd leaflets tell us
VC didn't kill
Dr. Martin Luthеr King.
The silence etched into their skin
comes at me from White Nights
like Hoover's imagination at work,
dissolving into a scenario
at Firebase San Juan Hill:
our chopper glides in closer,
down to the platoon of black GIs
back from night patrol
with five dead. Down
into a gold whirl of leaves
dust-deviling the fire base.
A field of black trees
stakes down the morning sun.
With the chopper blades
knife-fighting the air,
yellow leaflets quiver
back to the ground, clinging to us.
These men have lost their tongues,
but the red-borderеd leaflets tell us
VC didn't kill
Dr. Martin Luthеr King.
The silence etched into their skin
