Les McCann and Eddie Harris, "Live" at the 1969 Montreux Jazz festival. Lyrics here.

President he’s got his war

Folks don’t know just what it’s for

Nobody gives us rhyme or reason

Have one doubt, they call it treason

We’re chicken-feathers, all without one nut — God damn it

Tryin’ to make it real — compared to what?

As always, it’s an open thread during Late Late Nite. What’s on your mind?