The imagery in this single by Grateful Dead is post-apocalyptic, as if the forces sung about conspire to wreck us all.
Commissars and pinstripe bosses roll the dice.
Any way they fall, guess who gets to pay the price?
Money green, or proletarian gray,
Selling guns instead of food today.
So the kids they dance and shake their bones,
And the politicians throwing stones,
Singing ashes, ashes, all fall down
Ashes, ashes, all fall down.