Our God’s Are Falling Down

Continue reading



Understanding the meaning of struggle
Giving your whole life to a single passion
Which others may or may not
Consider obsolete
Like a rare flower
Seen by a few before it withers and dies
(before it withers and dies)

Seeing it all
All the way through the very end
A full stop followed by an exclamation mark
Written in your flesh and blood
Getting knocked down every time
Getting knocked down every moment you get up – until you love getting up

I know what you’ve been going through
I’ve been there too
God knows I’ve been pushing hard Pushing so damn hard -I’ve forgotten what the hell I’m even -Pushing for

Recognize it when it happens to you
Learn to recognize it and know what to do
Stop clinging on, let go, own nothing
Do it out of love
Do it out of love

Words cannot substitute
Losing everything
Losing your home
Losing your money
Your dignity
Losing your mind – your beliefs, ideals
Then and only then
When everything is gone
You no longer care
Your soul standing naked and bare
Stripped down to the truth
Then you’ll find everything
On heaven and earth
On heaven and earth
On heaven and earth

The struggle is long
The struggle is hard
The struggle is beautiful

Lyrics; J. Coleman
From the album; Extremities, Dirt And Various Repressed Emotions. By Killing Joke.

I Am The Virus

Death, misery and tears
Calculated waves of fear
Drawn-up by think-tanks
There’s a darkness in the west
Oil swilling
Guzzling corporates
Central banking
Mind-fucking omnipotence

I am the fury
The spirit of outrage
I am the fire
I am the virus
I am the virus
I am the furnace
Where resentment glows
I am the bias
I am the virus
I am the virus

False flags and black-ops
Tavistock manufactured shocks
Something’s gone horribly wrong
Hot flushes for the neo-con

I am the fury
The spirit of outrage
I am the fire
I am the virus
I am the virus
I am the furnace
Where resentment glows
I am the bias
I am the virus
I am the virus

I am the hydra-headed beast
I am the one you can’t delete
I am the danger that never sleeps
I am the virus
I am the virus

No-one believes 9/11
Steel framed buildings
Don’t fall in seconds
Murderers in black robes
Decapitate innocents
The public’s blank stare
Did you sleep ok….
Last night Mr Blair?

I am the fury
The spirit of outrage
I am the fire
I am the virus
I am the virus
I am the furnace
Where resentment glows
I am the bias
I am the virus
I am the virus
I am the hydra-headed beast
I am the one you can’t delete
I am the danger that never sleeps
I am the virus
I am the virus

Lyrics and Music: Killing Joke
From the album; Pylon

That’s Progress

Gimme a M (M),
gimme an A (A),
gimme an U (U),
gimme a L (L)
Gimme your money! (Sure!)
What’s that spell? (Maul!)
What’s that spell? (Shopping maul!)

‘scuse me, pardon my greed,you’re evicted, time to leave.
Don’t matter if your family’s lived here 30 years.
We’re tripling the rent.
Time’s up, the sheriff’s here.
Too bad for you if you freeze out in the street.

The croissant and cookie palace downstairs will symbolize
The old neighborhood whose soul has slowly died,
Been gentrified.
That’s progress!
Doesn’t progress make you feel good inside?

Cameras catch you running red lights
schoolrooms with no windows
Computer picks your career at age 15.
Universal price code I.D.’s
With the stripe the laser reads
and records where you’ve been,when you’re sick and what you eat.
For every spy in government
There’s 50 private eyes,
Who round up dirt on you to keep on file
Then sell the file.

That’s progress!
Doesn’t progress make you feel good inside?
That’s progress!
That’s progress!
Progress don’t make me feel so good inside.

You can’t live here, we won’t hire you,we know all the nasty things you do.
Bought a dossier on your whole life
Clear back to the pranks you did in school at age 5.

There’s millions on file
At the touch of a button.
Your boss or your landlord
Will love our choice cuts of gossip
if it’s lies, what can you do?
‘cos it costs too much to sue
The last person who’ll ever see your file is you.

Had enough, I moved back home
To the mountains where I belong
But ski resorts have tamed the wild west.
The hills we used to roam
Now they’re privately owned and scarred with cheezy suburbs and cement.
The ‘tracts for sale’ sign promises ‘deer in your back yard
‘if the deer somehow get past the fences and guards
And the industrial ‘park’.
Oh no! Not again!
All this progress makes me feel ill inside!
That’s progress!
That’s progress!

Looks like I’ll have to move to yellowknife.
Your idea of progress wrecks too many lives.

Lyrics: Jello Biafra
Music: DOA
From the Movie Soundtrack Terminal City Ricochet

Talk Is Cheap

Talk is cheap and its easy to shout
If we spent all our time working things out
Would it change anything?
Words are cheap and anyone can sing
So let’s sing a song about all the wrongs 

Complaining and straining
This is where it belongs
Or so some one said
It must’ve been something I read

But while I weas reading
 The ethics lay bleeding
Stab the back of the hand that feeds you 

We fall apart in the ‘basic human nature’ excuse
It’s the heart of the gig that bleeds
From the endless soul self-abuse
Tied to the bar in the hope of reviews
From the obvious to the obtuse

The critics who sound so profound
About the mythical ‘new underground’

But talk is cheap
The words of wisdom put you to sleep
And you don’t even read the cuttings you keep
Just following trends
The trail never ends
When all the solutions are just round the bend 

You’re upholding ideas that you’d never defend
In the endless search you cannot comprehend
That there’s nothing that wonderful
In worshipping trivial
Ego material
Music sells papers
Who sell you the feeling
As if it was missing (Yeah really)

Talk is cheap
Till you put it in print
Sing as you read
The words all fit 

Now we’re learning the words
Obscure or absurd
It makes no difference
It never gets heard
No it never gets ‘in’
What you really want to win
When there’s nothing to be
You say ‘look at me!’
And it works!
Yes it works!
Talk is cheap
But shouting is free!

Lyrics: Dick Lucas

A Growing Boy Needs His Lunch

In lonely gas stations with mini-marts
You’ll find rows of them for sale
Liquor-filled statues of Elvis Presley
Screw his head-off and…
Drink like a vampire
His disciples flock to such a fitting shrine
Sprawled across from his
graceless mansion
A shopping mall
Filled with prayer rugs and Elvis dolls
And I wonder
Yeah I wonder
Will Elvis take the place of Jesus
In a thousand years
Religious wars
Barbaric laws
Bloodshed worldwide
Over what’s left of his myth

A growing boy needs his lunch

When pesticides get banned we’re safe up north
We just sell them to those other countries
Soon there’s lots of exotic deformed babies
Somehow that’s not our fault
Just dip ’em in glaze paint ’em orange and green
For the Arizona roadside stands
To sell alongside plaster burros and birthbaths
And I wonder
Yeah I wonder
Why so many insects around us feed off the dead

Death squads
Foreign aid?
Just leave it to the magic of the marketplace

A growing boy needs his lunch

Everyone should just love each other
Dip your toe into the fire
Drop your guns and lawsuits and love each other
Life begins beyond the bunker
And while you’re busy hugging in the streets
Outgrowing your hatred
For all to feel
Jiminy Cricket’s found a game to play
Stick your neck out on trust-
It’ll be chopped away
Jimmy through your locked front doors
Rifle through your sacred drawers
Line my pockets
Deface your dreams
‘Til the cows come home to me
Nibbling like an earwig
Winding through your brain
Bound like Lawrence Harvey Spreadeagled to a bed
The migraine gets worse
When you find out we lay eggs
And no one in all of Borneo
Can hear you scream
Turn on
Tune in
Cop out
Drop kick
Turn in
Tune out

Lyrics: Jello Biafra
Music: Dead Kennedys
From the album; Frankenchrist

The Spoils Of Victory

Look to the north, look to the east, look to the west and south

On all horizons storm clouds loom and roll across the sky
The river bursts its banks and vomits soil into the mouth
As thunder breaks the silence, a young child cries!

Between the night
And the days first light
The leaders made a pact
To raise the rotting corpse of war
And set the wheels in motion
The stage a heaving battlefield
Would support the final act
While the authors hide in satellites
Or forts beneath the ocean

And in this play
We’re cast as fools
To blindly play
By others’ rules

Now the dust has settled
And the stench completely clear
Then return the victors
To claim their wretched crown
But from the fleshheaps of the slain
There comes no cheer
Their game is over
The chips are down

You arrived like a breath
From the angel of death
Famine, disease and a life on your knees
When you put them in power

Lyrics And Music; Amebix
From The Album: Arise