Wednesday 5 November 2014

4 Songs by Trevor D. Richardson et al


by Trevor D. Richardson

Gather ye round, you Corporate Huns,
I’ll show you the death of your future sons…
And as the bodies heap up by the tons
I’ll watch as your wax stone building runs
Down through the street on the people it shuns
And I see America burning like hell-born nuns…

You Marks of the Beast,
You Myth Pilgrim Feast,
A swinging axe should be yours at the least.
Just slam down the blade til your plans have all ceased.
Let me tell you one truth, you’re the Mark of the Beast,
But you think you’re God’s second coming in the East…

Listen in close, Wall Street Conquistadors,
You’re spreading like vapor up through people’s floors,
You’re moving en masse under the cracks of our doors
And grabbing our children to work in your stores,
Feeding the needy to make them your whores
But you need to remember the grave you’re digging is yours.

You Marks of the Beast,
You Myth Peace Talk Feast,
A swinging noose should be yours at the least.
Just slam down the trap door till your kicking has ceased.
Let me tell you the truth,
You’re the Mark of the Beast,
For trying to sell War and own Peace.

So follow me down, you Corporate Huns,
I’ll teach you the fury of my future sons
And as the death sentences heap up by the tons
I’ll watch the sure fate of he who runs
Down through the street past the people he shuns
And I dream of my world turning its back on your guns.

Glad You Smoke 
by Jay Calhoun

I felt the Holy Ghost in the back seat of your old Jeep,
and you swore you felt him too.
But these kinds of feelings can be so misleading,
and Jesus put it best when he spread his arms and said,
‘Father, forgive them for they know not what they do…’
‘Father, forgive them for they know not what they do…’

But before you go you pick up some of my bad habits,
started feeling lonesome and you started smoking
and I’m glad that you did ‘cause I wanna see you die.
Yeah, I’m glad that you did, so can I get you a light?
Did you find yourself hiding in those places undiscovered?
Did you lose yourself when you saw just what you thought you wanted?
Did you find yourself waking in the arms of yet another?
Did you lose yourself when you found out just what they had to offer?

by Cody Finkner

What you wanted what you meant to say
Is that you're tired of the complacency and moral decay
I don't know who's got the answers, who calls the shots
but if they catch you digging through the trench you're going to get shot
The needs of the many in the hands of the few
If you want to make a choice you get to choose between two
Working all day to get what you're headed towards
At the end of the day someone else gets the rewards

They live, we sleep, we starve, they eat
You must comply, with their deceit
Don't trust the wolves to guard the sheep
They'll colonize when you close your eyes into a superpower that will
never die

The big fish are bottom feeding and how?
Off the backbreaking workers with the shovels and plows
Illegal labor that built your house and now
You want to build a wall to shut them all out
It's evil, it's vile, it stands in my way
It's the false sense of hope in the American flag
Stay in the pit where you can never be saved
Assimilate to slavery and dig your own grave

From our past we're not learning, our present is no future

by Trevor D. Richardson

I see a blue dolphin drinking blood through her blowhole,
a man with a robot lung shoveling Carolina coal.
His engine chugs, ears shoot a black smoke spurt.
A meteor shower launches outta the Nevada desert.
The Miner serves the Angel of Death for a pension to buy off his fear
while those meteors have screaming faces burning outta the atmosphere.

That’s America, Home of the Working Class Junkie,
Drinking His Constitutional Roofie.
I see a Protest March fighting the Power,
another Protest March fighting for Power.

I see a Protest Rally fighting against everything,
another Rally fighting for everything.
I see Plato saying the want for rights will be our end,
vote a Democratic King to guard us and every knee shall bend.

And I know this ain’t America, it’s the Home of the Working Class Junkie,
Chugging Down his Bipartisan Roofie.
I can see modern Gestapo breaking down doors.
I watch the Big One shaking red white and blue into our floors.

Oil slick oceans cover kids trying to fight the insanity.
Modern Beats and Baby Bohemians sing songs for a peaceful humanity.
Teen dreamers arm themselves with art against doom squads
while their Washington fathers say it’s time to stop sparing their rods.

And I know this is America. Homeland of the Republic Rights Junkies.
And the Corporate Tycoon Groupies.
Protest Nation, Protest Nation, Protest Nation…

Mine eyes have seen the Glory of the coming of the Lord,
His feet were bound with shackles when the Apes of Wrath were bored.
We hath prayed and cried for mercy which our countrymen ignored.
This War keeps marching on.

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