dunno if this is the place fer it. holler and this is gone. septic tank-centric, but still in regards to humanity in general...
trademarked
it is with greatest delight
in these boundaries so finite
that our collective copyright
the owners of your plight
make in haste their profit flight
it's stamped on your forehead
like Bob's Big Boy, and well fed
and all the way until your dead
and each night in your own bed
slowly twisting the debt into red
bother where the car is parked
beware the children and the narcs
you cannot sleep until it's paid
your liability is custom made
bought for you, a profit grenade
the meat is in the risk, you see
and the feat has gone intrinsicly,
profit matters, take all donations
broadcast truth, and own all stations
it's the advertising space of nations
we would if we could
and we think they should
but they break it all in theory
when they fail to make the query
for the nation that thought it could
but my message is for the rest
the ones against and for the fence
the ones who loan, and have never known
the ones our Jeans made on their own
how can we be what we do not own?
make the case, stand up and fight
if you got a cause, then put it right
but get one thing straight my friend
they will defend on what they depend
and the cost is always what they'll spend
some say they vote with our taxes
while come April, and bent over backwards
is the millionaire's game of Twister
treating the billionaire's shameful blister
hoping and praying the IRS missed her
so remember when you kill, and don't forget
allah, jehova and gods i haven't yet met
will surely pin you up against the wall
in their fury and rage, you angered them all
when you shot and failed to aim the call
but that goes for all, each and every side,
even the owners who will try to hide,
behind the spectre of trademark's pride
the patent's profit and power implied
on the constitutional property ride
terror is omnidirectional and present
the sad results of responsibly negligent
too busy counting the stacks and returns
and interpretting for us the course
there's no time or cash to think on it
didn't you read the manual?
the world's trademarked
what's left?
In a world where what is,
is not necessarily is,
and what's right, is only might...
what's left?
In the mood of what is visceral,
one might ask us, "What is liberal?",
but even right is left political, so...
what's left?
Just wrappers that tie us,
and our particular bias,
for the party we defend,
from liars that contend,
- with particular chin-spin,
aimed, waiting, and plugged-in.
Ready, advance, attack
- round up the hill and back,
of your friend's best enemy.
Cause this country's free,
and all of our political pee
- irregardless of enemy -
is just part of the fold,
where it's dark, wet and cold.
Where the children we mold,
rule the left that we sold.
We were happily polled,
about the lies we were told,
and simply couldn't behold.
Looks like we rolled.
Thoughts only for critical,
not long-term, responsible, not lateral.
Only plural truism-wisdom,
in this republic kingom.
Is the thought in our collective minds so bereft?
Yearn for the epitome of brevity and its sanctuary,
to fight the bad vibes, hope and vanity that flourish on...
what's left.
what's right?
In a world so abominable,
in ways simply subliminable,
where what's left, is pure evil...
what's right?
In the search for keen derivatives,
you might ask, "What's conservative?",
and even left is right of center, so...
what's right?
Spoils to the victor all the same,
cause all's fair and game.
Just ask that Sun Tzu,
I'm sure he'd proudly tell you,
that in the art of war,
check your heart at the door,
check your Standard & Poor's
move that silver diet Coors,
take the money Enron.
We'll have some fun tonight,
and we'll talk about what's right
- irregardless of plight -
cause we'll make the case,
watch us win this here race.
Because there's this place,
where we don't lose face,
the face of apologetic grace,
and where the human race,
simply marks the space,
- cause we own this place.
Thoughts only for critical,
not long-term, responsible, not lateral.
Only plural truism-wisdom,
in this republic kingom.
Is the thought in our collective minds so bright?
Yearn for the epitome of brevity and its sanctuary,
to prop the steers, cash and careers that flourish on...
what's right.
spirituality
all this stuff it happened, so very long ago
but it's like we all know it, like we saw the same damned show
several times before, and in a manner we all know
about that bloody righteousness, and the angry thoughts below
in all of our world around us, where laughter's heavan sent
and where tolerance and ignorance and hate seem mostly spent
where the clowns fill the downs of the crowns of what's for rent
leave me scratching in wonder at just what it was we meant
we interpretted the sacred books, we learned the ancient ways
we carried forth the sentiment, of those ancient, sacred days
the sentiment of righteousness, the theocracy of woes
the sentiment of what to think, while they tell us how it goes
doesn't matter how they change it, from flat world to the round
or how they rearrange it and the curious tell-all sound
of evangilism and excite-ism, where we beat and stomp the ground
in our God's fairest anger, at the latest enemy we've found
it's the social clause that binds, obliged, while they say it's just internal
separation of state it seems, but just a dream, indeed it's most external
the theocracy of one for me, but the same for you without question
is the theocracy of monogamy and the bitter jealousy of protection
and as the ends of destiny we see, cap shining sea to shining sea
and while we weigh effectively the cost of their God on you and me
so it stands with spirituality, and while evil doers plot their extremes
i do not think that word it means, what it is you think it means
just lookin in the mirror...
i wasn't pointing fingers,
when i looked at our past.
my finger wasn't pointing,
when we ran outta luck.
pointing at the smokers,
and sucking down caffeine,
filling up on unleaded,
or some supreme extreme.
pointing at the tokers,
and sucking lemonade,
giving up your sanity,
at the premium that you paid.
i wasn't pointing fingers,
when i looked at our past.
my finger wasn't pointing,
when we ran outta luck.
and the cost was dear,
the emperor was naked,
the troops were all confused...
and the tune was fear,
and the bands all played,
for our politically abused...
but i wasn't pointing fingers,
just looking in the mirror.
i wasn't pointing fingers,
when you passed the buck.
i wasn't pointing fingers,
when i looked at our past.
my finger wasn't pointing,
when we ran outta luck.
yesterday's
no more tomorrow, no more today
no more truth to be said in that way
no more of more, no more of less
no more of the things we must confess
today's terrorist is yesterday's hero
today's woman is yesterday's man
today's republican is yesterday's democrat
today's valour is yesterday's horror
today's horror is yesterday's valour
today's DNC is yesterday's GOP
today's man is yesterday's woman
today's hero is yesterday's terrorist
plenty more sin, plenty more greed
but there's simply no more
of all that we need
no more left, of yesterday's need
history
"it would be better not to know so many things,
than to know so many things that are not so"
- felix okaye
look at woodrow wilson,
the prophet of democracy,
and his concept of sufferage
is not what you will see
in the pages of your textbook
and the teaching of history
mr wilson gets the credit
when he was the enemy
sick of the lies, sick of the lies
that's why they hate, and why they despise
the platforms we would rationalise
with apologetic, apathetic, sinister lies
consider for one minute
how britain's big parliament
was controlling the whole damn thing
when the books say it was the king
when books say it was freedom
that drove our collective cause
when saving assets and accounts
is just about all it was
sick of the lies, sick of the lies
that's why they hate, and why they despise
the platforms we would rationalise
with apologetic, apathetic, sinister lies
history to the victor you see
revisionary reflections
which cover up reality
for your contextual protection
to convince us what is true
they bend and break perception
to meet the needs of exactly who
will profit from the direction
sick of the lies, sick of the lies
that's why they hate, and why they despise
the platforms we would rationalise
with apologetic, apathetic, sinister lies |
