Children of a Slain Father-Leader

Hamlet - The 1964 Studio Album Starring Richard Burton

We've all become Hamlets in Our Country, 

Children of a Slain Father-Leader 

whose killers still possess The Throne. 

The Ghost of John F. Kennedy confronts us with the secret murder at the heart of the American Dream. 

He forces on us the appalling questions: 

Of what is our Constitution made? 

What are our lives worth? 

What is the future of a democracy where a President can be assassinated under suspicious circumstances while the machinery of legal action scarcely trembles? 

How many more political murders disguised as heart attacks, suicides, cancers, drug overdoses? 

How many plane and car crashes will occur before they are exposed for what they are?

'Treason doth never prosper,' 

wrote an English poet --

'What's The Reason? 

For if it prosper, none dare call it Treason.' 

The American public has yet to see the Zapruder film. Why? 

The American public has yet to see the real X-rays and photographs of the autopsy. Why? 

There are hundreds of documents that could help prove this conspiracy. 

Why are they being withheld or burned by the government? 

Each time my office or you the people have asked those questions, demanded crucial evidence, the answer from on high has always been 'National Security.' 

What kind of National Security do we have when we've been robbed of our leaders? 

What National Security permits the removal of fundamental power from the hands of the American people and validates the ascendancy of an Invisible Government in the United States? 

That kind of National Security, gentlemen of the jury, is when it smells like it, feels like it, and looks like it, you call it what it is: Fascism!

It may become a generational affair. 

Questions passed from father to son, 

mother to daughter. 

But someday, somewhere, someone may find out 

The Damned Truth. 

We better. We better, or we might just as well build ourselves another government like the Declaration of Independence says to when the old one ain't working - just - just a little farther out West.