|
How can we achieve anarchy if we don't know what it means? |
|
Do we even want anarchy that illusionistic dream? |
|
They say they see no reason for discontent |
|
In this period of free enterprise, is evolution spent? |
|
Say their progress is insallable, presented indisguised |
|
Decisions made for all is their responsibility? |
|
They forecast better ways to better days; onwards they seek progress no matter what it takes |
|
From left to right to all the prats in the middle |
|
From the judge to the preacher to the sinners and the cynical |
|
From the Godley to the gullible to the vicious and viable |
|
The globe turns slowly while the governed and ungovernable |
|
Slay it out in the never ending search for righteousness, immaculate success |
|
Their space to possess seems to be what makes their clock tick, but to us it fucking stinks |
|
When met with resistance, they stamp on it until it breaks |
|
Their society remains secret and although we know their name |
|
We are the pawns on the world's chessboard in one big multi-national game |
|
There's still no end in sight but still we know we're right |
|
We must somehow struggle on up while they go racing to the top |
|
Then Whitehouse "V" the squat, a challenge I think not |
|
Resist every move they make by fulfilling our own hearts |
|
Not by backing off and dropping out, get in there for a start |
|
If you're looking for some proof of this how much more proof do you need |
|
When constantly and hopelessly we fail and they succeed |
|
There's no compassion in here |
|
My fingers keep curling into fists these days |
|
No one smiles on the streets these days |
|
And there's no compassion |
|
Hit the wall a substitute for a face |
|
You can look but you can't touch |
|
You can see but you can't have |
|
Keep crawling to the end of the week |
|
And there's no compassion |
|
Breath heavy to pretend it's fun |
|
Raise the cover to protect your pride |
|
Ignore the failure that you see in the glass |
|
Paint the flesh to hide the scar |
|
And there's no compassion |
|
A million people died in the middle of your breakfast |
|
A million people died in the middle of your favorite love song |
|
A million people died in the middle of your racist joke |
|
A million people died in the middle of your favorite TV programme |
|
A million people died in the middle of your lovemaking |
|
A million people died in the middle of your pop stars interview |
|
A million people died in the middle of your video game |
|
A million people died in the middle of your sexist |
|
A million people died in the middle of your mass debating |
|
A million people died in the middle of your politicians lying |
|
A million people died in the middle of your silence |
|
A million people died in the middle of your stocks and shares |
|
A million people died in the middle of your royal variety performance |
|
A million people died in the middle of your debutante's ball |
|
A million people died in the middle of your day out at Ascot |
|
A million people died in the middle of a Conflict gig! |
|
Separation is complete. A mind to domesticate, condition, compete |
|
Clinical birth control, the sterlised setting |
|
Syringed into being, life is just beginning |
|
Mask of the surgeon, eyes of the blind, rubber band caressing, welcome to mankind |
|
The brain perceives the fear, tender beats the heart |
|
Slapped into life programming starts |
|
Wanted and needed |
|
Wanted from birth to fit in the jigsaw puzzle |
|
Trained don't strain against the muzzle |
|
Force-fed, prostituted, brainwashed that's called learning |
|
Blindfolded, prejudiced, an outcome predetermined |
|
Needed to die and not question why |
|
Follow in ignorance, a comfortable prison |
|
Kept in the dark so they can be free. Spit in the eyes so you will never see |
|
The kid aims the cap gun, points it at my cranium |
|
I am supposed to put my hands up, but I don't want to die that way |
|
Mentally or physically, para-psychologically, whose responsibility? |
|
Is it to feed their profiteering tolerated as long as your mind is fearing? |
|
Right where they want you beaten back into submission |
|
Right where they want you in a missionary position |
|
Needed to promote their glory of possession |
|
To accept and be grateful yet ask no questions |
|
To believe in love and their guiding hand |
|
To obey in humility and never understand |
|
I was feeling alright, yeah just me and the night; I was walking through a white tiled subway |
|
I heard the sound of voices around the corner shouting |
|
The sound of broken glass, no one was there |
|
I looked at my reflection in the puddles in the street |
|
It looked so messed up I just kept moving my feet |
|
To the beat and rhythm of my heart, not much I know but I see it as a start |
|
Because I'm counting the heads to see how many are left, the fingers of one hand stretching |
|
And this feeling of apathy keeps coming quite suddenly - well if something's gonna come, when's it coming? |
|
While you're jumping on the spot, all the freshness starts to rot |
|
And another inspiration fades away. And still you sell your dignity |
|
Still you sell your dignity time after time |
|
And I wonder where lies your pride, does it wait in there inside? |
|
Is it waiting for the moment when you let your heart speak? |
|
Is it waiting for the moment when you act out your own beliefs? |
|
Is it waiting for the moment when you drop your false act? |
|
Is it waiting for the moment when you face the facts? |
|
That you're pumping your life for someone else's ideas |
|
That you're living your life under someone else's fear |
|
That it's time to shift your vision, time to move your head |
|
Get up out of submission. I'm counting heads, how many are left? |
|
The fingers of one hand keep stretching. The fingers of both hands keep stretching |
|
And all I see is "Rock 'n' Roll". All I hear is "Rock 'n' Roll" |
|
I turn the pages of the book, and force my weary eyes to look |
|
At the product of our modern world, at the product of our civilised world |
|
And a child's face looks out at me, questioning why does this have to be? |
|
And I can't find any answer, not that dead ears can hear - do I make myself clear? |
|
It's been said that we must progress for humanity, but looking at the truth of that mockery |
|
I wonder if our minds have progressed anywhere, and I wonder if there's any humanity there |
|
The sightless eyes looking at me, questioning why does this have to be |
|
And I can't find any answers not that dead ears can hear - do I make myself clear? |
|
If you're an activist not while getting pissed, |
|
If you're gonna do something make sure you don't miss |
|
That's a dangerous game to play what use are you if you're banged up? |
|
You can't beat them on the streets, so duck and dive a little, hide the fiddles |
|
Play them at their own game, stay with them all the way |
|
Know what and why they are doing things and create alternatives |
|
Police are still snooping, awaiting the big nick |
|
Like fishermen baiting the fish, tempting us to take the risk |
|
This time, this time they've made the impossible. |
|
The new aids infection from EMI the treatment to replace the old spermicide |
