The songs of Minnesota-born Bob Dylan were an unmistakable part of the radicalization of the 1960s in the Vietnam era.
His 1963 protest song, Masters of War, remains the strongest indictment of war in popular music.
Come, you Masters of War, and let you build all those guns.
Can you build the death planes?
Yeah, you build the big bombs.
And you hide behind walls.
You hide behind theirs.
I just want you to know I can see through your mask.
You that never done nothing, but meant to destroy.
You play with my word, 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 you are so old, you lie and deceive. A world can be old, 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 from my drain.
You fasten the trigger for the others to fire.
Then you step back and watch when the death count gets higher.
You hide in your mansion as young people's blood blows out of their bodies and is buried in mud.
You've thrown the worst fear that can ever be heard.
I feel to bring children into this world for threatening my baby.
Born in a name.
You reign with 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 unloved.
But there's one thing I know that I'm younger than you.
But even Jesus would never forgive what you do.
And let me ask you one question, is your money that good?
Will it buy you forgiveness?
Do you think that it could?
And 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 will come soon.
I will follow your casket in the pale afternoon.
And I'll watch while you're lowered down to your death bed.
And I'll stand on your grave till I'm sure that you're dead.
