" So I'm back in my hotel room with Johnnie Coltrane and the love supreme. In the next room I hear some woman scream out that her lover's turning off turning on the television. And I can't tell the difference between ABC news, Hill Street Blues and a preacher on the old time gospel hour stealing money from the sick and the old. Well the God I believe in isn't short of cash, mister. I feel a long way from the hills of San Salvador where the sky is ripped open and the rain pours through a gaping wound pelting the women and children...pelting the women and children...who run ...who run...into the arms...of America"
