thumb|300px|right "Livin' in the land where the whip still cracks" is a poem written and performed by Noah Gauthier, an Occupy Denver supporter which created national attention. His identity was not known until his sister saw him in the news.


This is fast cars, and this is dive bars

And this is crack rocks, and this is black tar

This is smoke stacks, and this is dime sacks

And this is the bars on the windows of one-room shacks.

This is Section 8 shame, and the pain of poverty,

Kids caught up in the game of Channel 10 robberies,

This is Junkies running dope up their carotid arteries

And old women wishing they could just win that lottery.

See, this is real, the streets are the real deal,

Where people know how hunger feels,

And they know they need a meal and they know they shouldn't steal,

But they know the deck's stacked and they got a raw deal.

It's an (unintelligible) memory up on a wall,

This is hustlers making red off of chicken heads and eight balls,

It's the frustration watching money cross the street,

When you've got five kids and no food to eat.

And your (unintelligible) pump set on blistered feet,

Working 24/7 for fifty-two weeks,

It's the tears dripping down your cheeks looking over the bills,

It's relief only coming in a bottle of pills.

It's the thought of cashing out like the midnight till,

And it's the prophecy of poverty being fulfilled,

It's people packed like rats living in cardboard shacks,

Sneaking over the border, locked up, and shipped back.

And now that they can vote we just imprison the blacks,

Sign 'em up for the war and ship them off to Iraq,

This is building number 7 when it wasn't attacked,

This is truth neglected in the Patriot Act.

And it's telephone lines illegally tapped,

And living in the land where the whip still cracks.

But see, I was at a red light the other day, this is true,

And a dude to the right, he's rolling in an Escalade,

He's got a black suit and tie, I'm thinking, brother got it made,

You know, the Wall St. type that you're sure getting paid.

But when the window rolled down, he looked over and said,

"Hey, I'm digging the sticker on the back that says (unintelligible)!"

And I'm thinking to myself, "That man would melt that ride down into crates of AKs."

But I heard this dude plain as day.

Then he put his fist in the air like he wanted to say, "Hey,

Keep your chin held high, there's enough apple pie."

And that was the moment when I finally realized that

Love is the only tool when you're looking to build allies.

See, we could watch the Fox News lies, and the body counts rise,

While bullets are screaming through Baghdad's night sky,

And you can have a bad day at your nine to five,

And you can grow thick skin and bags under your eyes.

But if your soul needs a lift, just look a child in the eyes,

And when you think of the future, just look to the sky,

And every day, when you wake, thank God you're alive,

'Cause, see, this is Gloria Gaynor singing "I Will Survive".

This is that Alabama preacher, he gave his life for the belief in a dream,

That every human being, all of us,

Could come together some day, no matter how hard it seems,

This is the unquenchable fire of hope, that things are gonna get better.

And I know, sometimes, that blue-blood lies are unraveling lives like Goodwill sweaters,

But never give up on the dream, that we can do this thing, if we just stand and walk together.

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