1. |
Asylum
03:24
|
|||
I am no feeble Christ, not me.
He hangs in glib delight upon his cross, above my body.
Christ forgive... Forgive? Shit! Fuck!
I vomit for you Jesu. Shit, forgive!
Down now from your cross.
Down now from your papal heights,
From that churlish suicide, petulant child.
Down from those pious heights, royal flag bearer, goat, billy.
I vomit for you. Forgive? Shit he forgives!
He hangs in crucified delight nailed to the extent of his vision,
His cross, his manhood, violence, guilt, sin.
He would nail my body upon his cross,
Suicide visionary, death reveller, rake, rapist, lifefucker,
Jesu, earthmover, Christus, gravedigger.
You dug the pits of Auschwitz, the soil of Treblinka is your guilt,
Your sin, master, master of gore, enigma.
You carry the standard of our oppression. Enola is your gaiety.
The bodies of Hiroshima are your delight ...the nails are your only trinity,
Hold them in your corpsey gracelessness, the image I have had to suffer.
The cross is the virgin body of womanhood that you defile.
You nail yourself to your own sin.
Lame arse Jesus calls me sister, there are no words for my contempt,
Every woman is a cross in is filthy theology, in his arrogant delight.
He turns his back upon me in his fear, he dare not face me.
Fearfucker. Share nothing you Christ, sterile, impotent, fucklove prophet of death.
You are the ultimate pornography, in your cuntfear, cockfear, manfear, womanfear,
Unfair, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare, warfare.
Jesus died for his own sins, not mine.
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2. |
Do They Owe Us a Living?
01:47
|
|||
Fuck the politically minded, here's something I want to say
About the state of the nation, the way they treat us today
At school they give you shit, drop you in a pit
You try, you try, you try to get out, but you can't because they've fucked you about
Then you're a prime example of how they must not be
This is just a sample, what they've done to you and me
[Chorus]
Do they owe us a living?
Of course they do! Of course they do!
Do they owe us a living?
Of course they do! Of course they do!
Do they owe us a living?
Of course they fucking do!
They don't want me anymore, I threw it on the floor
Used to call me sweet thing, I'm nobody's plaything
And now that I am different, you'd love to bust my head
You'd love to see me cop out, love to see me dead
[Chorus]
Do they owe us a living?
Of course they do! Of course they do!
Do they owe us a living?
Of course they do! Of course they do!
Do they owe us a living?
Of course they fucking do!
The living that is owed to me, I'm never going to get
Buggered this whole world up, up to their necks in debt.
Give you a lobotomy for something you ain't done
Make you the epitome of everything that's wrong
[Chorus]
Do they owe us a living?
Of course they do! Of course they do!
Do they owe us a living?
Of course they do! Of course they do!
Do they owe us a living?
Of course they fucking do!
Don't take any notice of what the public thinks
So much on the TV, they just don't want to think.
Used you as a target, they want to sell advice
When you don't want to hear it, they say you're full of vice
[Chorus]
Do they owe us a living?
Of course they do! Of course they do!
Do they owe us a living?
Of course they do! Of course they do!
Do they owe us a living?
Of course they fucking do!
|
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3. |
End Result
02:07
|
|||
I am a product. I am a symbol
Of endless, hopeless, fruitless,
aimless games.
I’m a glossy package on the supermarket shelf.
My contents aren’t fit for human consumption.
I could tragically injure your perfect health.
My ingredients will seize up your body’s function.
I am the dirt that everyone walks on.
I am the orphan nobody wants.
I am the staircarpet everyone walks on.
I am the leper nobody wants to touch.........much.
I am a sample. I am a scapegoat
Of useless, futureless, endless,
mindless ideas.
I am a number on the paper you file away.
I’m a portfolio you stick in the drawer.
I’m the fool you try to scare when you say,
“We know all about you, of that you can be sure”
Well, I don’t want your crazy system,
I don’t want to be on your files.
Your temptations I try to resist them
'Cause I know what hides beneath your smiles, it’s.......EST.
I am a subject. I am a topic
For useless, futureless, endless,
mindless debates.
You think up ways that you can hide me
From the naive eyes of your figurehead
But don’t you find that it ain’t easy?
Wouldn’t you love to see me dead?
Your answer is to give me treatment
For crying out when you give me pain
Leave me with no possible remnant
You poke your knives into my brain
You send me insane.
I’m an example. I’m no hero
Of the great, intelligent, magnificent,
human race.
I’m part of the race that kills for possessions
Part of the race that’s wiping itself out.
I’m part of the race that’s got crazy obsessions
Like locking people up, not letting them out.
I hate the living dead and their work in factories.
They go like sheep to their production lines.
They live on illusions, don’t face the realities
All they live for is that big blue sign that says..
It says FORD... well keep your Ford I'm feeling bored
keep your Ford I'm feeling bored
keep your Ford I'm feeling bored
keep your Ford I'm feeling bored
|
||||
4. |
They've Got A Bomb
03:56
|
|||
They won’t destroy the world, no, they’re not that crazy.
You’re not dealing with the town hall. They’re not crazy.
No political solution so why should we bother?
Well whose fucking head do you think they’re holding it over?
FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE. FIRE.
They can’t wait to use it.
They can’t wait to use it.
They can’t wait to try it out.
They can’t wait to use it.
They’ve got a bomb.
They’ve got a bomb and they can’t wait to use it on me.
Twenty odd years now waiting for the flash....
Twenty odd years now waiting for the flash
All of the oddballs thinking we’ll be ash.
Well the four minute warning has run on into years
Are we waiting for them to confirm our fears?
FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE. FIRE.
They can’t wait to use it.
They can’t wait to use it.
They can’t wait to try it out.
They can’t wait to use it.
They’ve got a bomb.
They’ve got a bomb and they can’t wait to use it on me.
They can build them small, call it tactical.
Stop the fallout, make it practical
To smash the misfits who foul up their scene
With the practical, tactical, killing machine.
FOUR. THREE. TWO. ONE. FIRE.
They can’t wait to use it.
They can’t wait to use it.
They can’t wait to try it out.
They can’t wait to use it.
They’ve got a bomb.
They’ve got a bomb and they can’t wait to use it on me.
|
||||
5. |
Punk Is Dead
01:53
|
|||
Yes that’s right, punk is dead
It’s just another cheap product for the consumer’s head.
Bubblegum rock on plastic transistors
Schoolboy sedition backed by big time promoters.
CBS promoted the Clash
But it ain’t for revolution, it’s just for cash.
Punk became a fashion just like hippy used to be
And it ain’t got a thing to do with you or me.
Movements are systems and systems kill
Movements are expressions of the public will
Punk became a movement cos we all felt lost
But the leaders sold out and now we all pay the cost.
Punk narcissism was a social napalm
Steve Jones started doing real harm
Preaching revolution, anarchy and change
As he sucked from the system that had given him his name.
Well I’m tired of looking through shit stained glass
Tired of staring up a superstar’s arse
I’ve got an arse and crap and a name
I’m just waiting for my fifteen minutes fame.
Steve Jones you’re napalm
If you’re so pretty why do you smarm?
Patti Smith, you’re napalm
You write with your hand but it’s Rimbaud’s arm.
And me, yes, I, do I want to burn?
Is there something I can learn?
Do I need a business man to promote my angle?
Can I resist the carrots that fame and fortune dangle?
I see the velvet zippies in their bondage gear
The social elite with safetypins in their ear
I watch and understand that it don’t mean a thing
The scorpions might attack, but the system’s stole the sting.
PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD. PUNK IS DEAD.
|
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6. |
Reject Of Society
01:22
|
|||
Not for me the factory floor
Sweeping up from nine to four
Not for me the silly rat race
I don’t see the point in any case.
People ask me why I say what I do
I say to them, “Well wouldn’t you
if you were fucked up just like me
a reject of society?”
They say I dig a hole and jump right in
Well I don’t give a shit about anything!
I don’t comply to their silly rules
All they are is hypocritical fools.
You give us conscience money
Now you start to worry
The Frankenstein monster you created
Has turned against you, now you’re hated!
They tell me I’m not what they’d like me to be
It’s their fault, you can’t blame me
They fucking tricked me half the time
Now they’ve got to stand in line
They don’t like it when they see me have fun
They turn around and then they run.
They don’t listen to what I say
I’m a reject of society.
You give us conscience money
Now you start to worry
The Frankenstein monster you created
Has turned against you, now you’re hated!
You give us conscience money
Now you start to worry
The Frankenstein monster you created
Has turned against you, now you’re hated!
You give us conscience money
Now you start to worry
The Frankenstein monster you created
Has turned against you, now you’re hated!
|
||||
7. |
General Bacardi
01:10
|
|||
I’ve seen it all before
Revolution at my back door
Who’s to say it won’t happen all again?
‘Cause the generals sip Bacardi
While the privates feel all the pain.
They talk from the screen and T.V. tube
They talk revolution like it’s processed food.
They talk anarchy from music hall stages,
Look for change in colour supplement pages.
They think that by talking from some distant tower
That something might change in the structure of power.
They dream, they dream, never walk on the street.
They dream, they dream, never stand on their feet.
I’ve seen it all before
Revolution at my back door
Who’s to say it won’t happen all again?
‘Cause the generals sip Bacardi
While the privates feel all the pain.
Alternative values were a fucking con.
They never really meant it when they said “Get it on.”
They really meant, “Mine, that’s mine,” can’t you see?
They stamped on our heads so that they could be free.
They formed little groups, like rich man’s ghettoes
Tending their goats and organic tomatoes.
While the world was being fucked by fascist regimes
They talked of windmills and psychedelic dreams.
I’ve seen it all before
Revolution at my back door
Who’s to say it won’t happen all again?
‘Cause the generals sip Bacardi
While the privates feel all the pain.
|
||||
8. |
Banned From The Roxy
02:41
|
|||
Banned from the Roxy... okay
I never much liked playing there anyway
They said they only wanted well behaved boys
Do they think guitars and microphones are just fucking toys?
Fuck them, I've chosen to make my stand,
Against what I feel is wrong with this land.
They just sit there on their overfed asses,
Feeding off the sweat of less fortunate classes.
They keep their fucking power
’Cause their finger’s on the button,
They’ve got control and won’t let it be forgotten.
The truth of their reality is at the wrong end of a gun
The proof of that is Belfast and that’s no fucking fun.
Seeing the squaddy lying in the front yard,
Seeing the machine guns resting on the fence.
Finding the entrance to your own front door is barred
And they've got the fucking nerve to call it defence.
Seems their defence is just the threat of strength
Protection for the privileged at any length.
The government protecting their profits from the poor,
The rich and the fortunate chaining up the door.
Afraid that the people may ask for a little more that the shit they get.
The shit they get. The shit they get. The shit they get.
The shit they get. The shit they get. The shit they get. The shit they get.
Defence, shit it's nothing less than war,
And no one but the government know what it's fucking for,
Oh yes they say it’s defence, they say it’s decency
Mai Lai, Hiroshima, know what I mean?
The same fucking lies with depressing frequency,
They say “We had to do it to keep our lives clean.”
Well whose life? Whose fucking life?
Who the fuck are they talking to? Whose life? Whose fucking life?
I tell you one thing, it ain't me and you.
And their systems, Christ, they’re everywhere
School, army, church, the corporation deal
A fucked up reality based on fear
A fucking conspiracy to stop you feeling real.
Well, they’re wrong, ain’t got me, I’d say they’re fucking wrong,
I ain’t quite ready with my gun, but I've got my song…
Banned from the Roxy, well okay
I never much liked playing there anyway.
GUNS
GUNS
GUNS
GUNS
|
||||
9. |
G's Song
00:39
|
|||
This country tells us that we’re down and out
Got you thinking that we’re through.
Got to suffer to get them moving
Say it’s up to me and you.
Well, look around and you’ll see
Who gets the goods, not you and me.
’Cause they ain’t suffering, no, not for us
They’re masquerading like pissers must.
They abuse us, keep us right underfoot
With the illusion of contentment and good.
Well it’s not over, war’s still around
And they’ve got no problems when you’re underground!
|
||||
10. |
Fight War, Not Wars!
00:49
|
|||
Fight War, Not Wars!
Fight War, Not Wars!
Fight War, Not Wars!
Fight War, Not Wars!
Fight War, Not Wars!
Fight War, Not Wars!
Fight War, Not Wars!
Fight War, Not Wars!
Fight War, Not Wars!
Fight War, Not Wars! (etc.)
|
||||
11. |
||||
Fuck is women’s money.
We pay with our bodies.
There is no purity in our love
No beauty. Just bribery.
It’s all the fucking same.
It’s all the fucking same.
We make soldiers with our submission
Wars with our isolation
Fuck is women’s money.
We pay with our bodies.
There is no purity in motherhood.
No beauty. Just bribery.
It’s all the fucking same.
We are all slaves to sexual histories.
Our awareness of whoredom can be a release.
War is men’s money.
They pay with their bodies.
There is no purity in that game
Only blood, death and bribery.
It’s still the fucking same.
It’s all the fucking same.
But we have all got the power.
Don’t just stand there
And take submission on the strength of fear.
FIGHT WAR, NOT WARS.
|
||||
12. |
Securicor
02:30
|
|||
I’m a private in a private army, I’m a private in a private army.
I’m a private in a private army, I’m a private in a private army.
I am a-working for Securicor
Take the money and come back for more
I want to do it ’cause I know I should
For the customer and the common good.
I walk around with a big Alsatian
He’ll rearrange you with no provocation
And I’m the bugger who has got the lead
You’ll have to be bright if you want to get at me.
Securicor cares
Securicor cares
Securicor scares the shit out of you
Do you want to come closer?
I block the pavement with my club and hat
I deal in money that you can’t get at.
You want to use me ’cause I’m up for rent
Well tough shit, ’cause I’m real busy.
You ought to know me cause I’ve been a cop
Out of the army where I learned a lot.
Some kids still chuckle when they see my van
But it’s not all money sonny, you want to come closer?
Securicor cares
Securicor cares
Securicor scares the shit out of you
Do you want to come closer?
I’m a private in a private army, I’m a private in a private army.
I’m a private in a private army, I’m a private in a private army…
|
||||
13. |
||||
SUUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKSSSSSS! (etc)
Do you really believe in Buddha?
Do you really believe in Buddha?
Do you really believe in Jesus?
Do you really believe in Jesus?
Is it all right really?
Is it all right really?
Is it working?
Do you really believe in Marx?
Do you really believe in Thatcher?
Is it all right really?
Is it all right really?
Is it working?
Do you really believe in the system? Well OK,
I BELIEVE IN ANARCHY IN THE U.K.!
Is it all right really?
Is it all right really?
Is it working?
|
||||
14. |
You Pay
02:31
|
|||
You’re paying for prisons
You’re paying for war
You’re paying for lobotomies
You’re paying for law.
You’re paying for their order.
You’re paying for their murder.
You’re paying for your ticket to watch the farce.
Knowing you’ve made your contribution
To the system’s fucked solution
To their political pollution.
No chance of revolution.
No chance of change.
You’ve got no range.
Don’t just take it.
Don’t take their shit.
Don’t play their game.
Don’t take their blame.
USE YOUR OWN HEAD.
Your turn instead.
It’s not apologize.
It’s not economize.
It’s not make do.
It’s not pull through.
It’s not take it.
It’s not make it.
It’s not just you.
It’s not madmen.
It’s not difficult.
It’s not behave.
It’s not, oh well, just this once.
It’s fucking impossible.
It’s fucking unbearable.
It’s fucking stupid.
IT’S FUCKING STUPID.
|
||||
15. |
Angels
01:54
|
|||
The angels are on T.V. tonight, grey puke, celluloid shit.
The army have sent a mission to Ireland, just to see to it.
Kojak is on the streets again, grey puke, fucking shit.
The army say they seek peace in Ireland and they'll see to it.
That they keep in line, horizontal hold.
Keep in line, vertical hold.
Keep in line, brightness.
Keep in line, contrast.
Keep in line, VISION ON.
Coronation Street is on twice a week, grey puke, fucking shit.
The army say they seek peace in Ireland and they'll see to it.
The army are on the news report. REAL WARS. BULLETS. DEATH.
They're beating fuck out of someone they caught just to see to it.
That they keep in line, horizontal hold.
Keep in line, vertical hold.
Keep in line, contrast.
Keep in line, brightness.
Keep in line, VISION OFF.
|
||||
16. |
What A Shame
01:19
|
|||
It doesn't take much to bring you down.
There are plenty of people standing round.
They wait till you slacken off just a bit.
Then they fill you up with passive bullshit.
It's too good. It can't last. What a shame.
Watch out for the quiet ones at the back.
All they want is the smallest crack.
Everything's happening down the front.
Innocent bystander you're the biggest runt.
Fuck the punks. Punks are fucked.
It's too loud. Awful row. They can't play.
They'll give up. In the end. What a shame.
Oh! what a shame!
Oh! what a shame!
It's still the same,
That's what you think.
Watch out for the quiet ones at the back.
All they want is the smallest crack.
Everything's happening down the front.
Innocent bystander you're the biggest runt.
We all know, it's so bad, but we say so.
What a shame.
|
||||
17. |
So What?
02:48
|
|||
They ask me why I'm hateful, why I'm bad.
They tell me I got things they never had.
They tell me go to church and see the light.
Cos the good lord's always right.
Well so what, so what?
So what if Jesus died on the cross?
So what about the fucker, I don't give a toss?
So what if the master walked on the water?
I don't see HIM trying to stop the slaughter!
They say I wouldn't have to live from bins.
If I would go along, confess my sins.
They say I shouldn't commit no crime.
Cos Jesus Christ is watching all the time.
So what, so what?
So what if he's always over my shoulder?
I realize the truth as I get older.
I get to see what a con it is.
Because it's my life, mine not his.
Well, they say they're going to send me away.
Said they're going to make me pay.
We're sorry but you got to go.
But you were naughty, you said "No".
So what, so what?
So what if I see through the lies? So what if the people I despise
Twist my arm and make me work?
I'm no deaf, dumb fucking jerk.
I'm no spastic lying in the street.
I'm no superstar elite.
I'm just a person, a human being.
"NO YOU'RE NOT, YOU'RE A PART OF THE MACHINE.
You're a part of our machine because we want you to be.
We've got you now and you'll never be free.
We can even have your body after you're dead.
We can take the eyes out of your fucking head.
Yes we'll take them out, use them again.
We can do it you know cos we've got your brain.
We'll crucify you like we crucified him.
We'll make you obey our every whim.
We got the power, the power and the glory!"
I've heard that before in a different story.
But the story I heard covered up the truth
Didn't touch on the actual factual proof.
Didn't say about the bodies in the concentration camps
Didn't say about the (surgeons) knives underneath the lamps
Doesn't say that the ovens are still warm
Doesn't say that this wretched little form
Is a human being who wants to live
But not in the snot and shit they give!
They say that I had better keep quiet
Or they're gonna douse my light.
Jesus Christ can save my life
But I can always use my knife.
So what?
So what?
So what?
So what?
So what?
So what?
SO WHAT!
|
||||
18. |
||||
...of course they fucking do! Of course they fucking do! Of course they fucking do! Of course they fucking do! Of course they fucking do! Of course they fucking do...
I am a product. I am a symbol, of endless, hopeless, fruitless,
aimless games.
I’m a glossy package on the supermarket shelf. My contents
aren’t fit for consumption. My ingredients will seize up
your body’s function. I am the dirt that everyone walks on. I am
the orphan nobody wants. I am the staircarpet everyone walks
on. I am the leper nobody wants to touch.........much.
I am a sample. I am a scapegoat of useless, futureless, endless,
mindless ideas.
I am a number on the paper you file away. I’m a portfolio you
stick in the drawer. I’m the fool you try to scare when you say,
“We know all about you, of that you can be sure,” well, I don’t
want your crazy system, I don’t want to be on your files. Your
temptations I try to resist them cos I know what hides beneath
your smiles, it’s.......electric shock treatment.
I am a subject. I am a topic for useless, futureless, endless,
mindless debates.
You think up ways that you can hide me from the naive eyes of
your figurehead, but don’t you find that it ain’t easy? Wouldn’t you
love to see me dead? Your answer is to give me treatment for
crying out when you give me pain, leave me with no possible
remnant, you poke your knives into my brain, you send me
insane.
I’m an example. I’m no hero of the great, intelligent, magnificent,
human race.
I’m part of the race that kills for possessions, part of the race
that’s wiping itself out. I’m part of the race that’s got crazy
obsessions like locking people up, not letting them out. I hate the
living dead and their work in factories. They go like sheep to
their production lines. They live on illusions, don’t face the
realities, all they live for is that big blue sign, it says...Ford.
I’M BORED, BORED, BORED.
|
The Crass Remix Project San Francisco, California
Crass were a punk band that existed from 1977 to 1984, taking the Sex Pistols' flippant ideas about anarchy and transforming it into an ethos that changed the conversation forever. We still have a lot to learn from them. The Crass Remix Project takes the first angry stirrings of Crass and views them through a fresh new lens. Ear Candle Productions now offers it to you for free. ... more
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