Some folks are born made to wave the flag,
Ooh, they’re red, white and blue.
And when the band plays hail to the chief,
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, lord,
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no senator’s son, son.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, no,
Yeah!
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, don’t they help themselves, oh.
But when the taxman comes to the door,
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes,
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no millionaire’s son, no.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, no.
Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war, lord,
And when you ask them, how much should we give?
Ooh, they only answer more! more! more! yoh,
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no military son, son.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, one.
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no fortunate one, no no no,
It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no fortunate son, no no no,
(edited by Taliban):
"Some folks are born..." (new voice) "to serve Allah". (then music fades).
Point: enjoy our freedom of expression, musical or otherwise, because those under strict islamic law have no such thing.
"In every place, with a name
We play the same territorial game
Hiding behind the lines
Sending up warning signs...
The whole wide world, an endless universe,
Yet we keep lookig through the eyeglass in reverse
Don't feed the people what we feed the machines
Can't really feel what international means
In different circles we keep holding our ground
In different circles we keep spinning round and round and round..
They shoot, without shame
In the name of a piece of dirt
Or a change of accent
Or the color of your shirt
Better the pride that resides...in a citizen of the world
Than the pride that divides...when a colorful rag is unfurled"
Rush, "Territories", 1985
Think globally, act locally.
The Bravery Of Being Out Of Range (Roger Waters)
You have a natural tendency
To squeeze off a shot
You're good fun at parties
You wear the right masks
You're old but you still
Like a laugh in the locker room
You can't abide change
You're at home on the range
You opened your suitcase
Behind the old workings
To show off the magnum
You deafened the canyon
A comfort a friend
Only upstaged in the end
By the Uzi machine gun
Does the recoil remind you
Remind you of sex
Old man what the hell you gonna kill next
Old timer who you gonna kill next
I looked over Jordan and what did I see
Saw a U.S. Marine in a pile of debris
I swam in your pools
And lay under your palm trees
I looked in the eyes of the Indian
Who lay on the Federal Building steps
And through the range finder over the hill
I saw the front line boys popping their pills
Sick of the mess they find
On their desert stage
And the bravery of being out of range
Yeah the question is vexed
Old man what the hell you gonna kill next
Old timer who you gonna kill next
Hey bartender over here
Two more shots
And two more beers
Sir turn up the TV sound
The war has started on the ground
Just love those laser guided bombs
They're really great
For righting wrongs
You hit the target
And win the game
From bars 3,000 miles away
3,000 miles away
We play the game
With the bravery of being out of range
We zap and maim
With the bravery of being out of range
We strafe the train
With the bravery of being out of range
We gain terrain
With the bravery of being out of range
With the bravery of being out of range
We play the game
With the bravery of being out of range
Swing low, sweet chariot
Comin' for to carry me home
Swing low, sweet chariot
Comin' for to carry me home
I looked over Jordan and what did I see
Comin' for to carry me home
A band of angels comin' after me
Comin' for to carry me home ...
I've been waiting for something to happen
For a week or a month or a year
With the blood in the ink of the headlines
And the sound of the crowd in my ear
You might ask what it takes to remember
When you know that you've seen it before
Where a government lies to a people
And a country is drifting to war
And there's a shadow on the faces
Of the men who send the guns
To the wars that are fought in places
Where their business interest runs
On the radio talk shows and the T.V.
You hear one thing again and again
How the U.S.A. stands for freedom
And we come to the aid of a friend
But who are the ones that we call our friends--
These governments killing their own?
Or the people who finally can't take any more
And they pick up a gun or a brick or a stone
There are lives in the balance
There are people under fire
There are children at the cannons
And there is blood on the wall
There's a shadow on the faces
Of the men who fan the flames
Of the wars that are fought in places
Where we can't even say the names
They sell us the President the same way
They sell us our clothes and our cars
They sell us every thing from youth to religion
The same time they sell us our wars
I want to know who the men in the shadows are
I want to hear somebody asking them why
They can be counted on to tell us who our enemies are
But they're never the ones to fight or to die
And there are lives in the balance
There are people under fire
There are children at the cannons
And there is blood on the wall
Lives in the Balance
Jackson Browne
nobody has the URL for "idiot son of an Asshole"? That was agreat video!
The words were funny too.
You wake up late for school - man you don't wanna go
You ask you mom, "Please?" - but she still says, "No!"
You missed two classes - and no homework
But your teacher preaches class like you're some kind of jerk
You gotta fight for your right to party
You pop caught you smoking - and he said, "No way!"
That hypocrite - smokes two packs a day
Man, living at home is such a drag
Now your mom threw away your best porno mag (Bust it!)
You gotta fight for your right to party
Don't step out of this house if that's the clothes you're gonna wear
I'll kick you out of my home if you don't cut that hair
Your mom busted in and said, "What's that noise?"
Aw, mom you're just jealous - it's the Beastie Boys!
You gotta fight for your right to party
I thin you might have veered off topic a little, Answer, but here's another one...
Dedicated to the R's...
"God money, I'll do anything for you
God money, just tell me what you want me to do
God money, got me up against the wall
God money don't want everything, he wants it all
No you can't take it, no you can't take it
No you can't take that away from me
No you can't take it, no you can't take it,
No you can't take that away from me
Head like a hole, black as your soul
I'd rather die, than give you control
Head like a hole, black as your soul
I'd rather die, than give you control
Bow down before the one you serve,
You're going to get what you deserve
God money's not looking for the cure
God money's not concerned about the sick among the pure
God money let's go dancing on the backs of the bruised
God money's not one to choose
No you can't take it, no you can't take it
No you can't take that away from me
Head like a hold, black as your soul
I'd rather die than give you control
Head like a hole, black as your soul
I'd rather die, than give you control
Bow down before the one you serve,
You're going to get what you deserve..."
Nine Inch Nails, "Head Like A Hole", 1990
-- Modified on 9/16/2004 9:09:43 AM
Judith (A Perfect Circle)
You're such an inspiration for the ways
That I'll never ever choose to be
Oh so many ways for me to show you
How the savior has abandoned you
Fuck your God
Your Lord and your Christ
He did this
Took all you had and
Left you this way
Still you pray, you never stray
Never taste of the fruit
You never thought to question why
It's not like you killed someone
It's not like you drove a hateful spear into his side
Praise the one who left you
Broken down and paralyzed
He did it all for you
He did it all for you
Oh so many many ways for me to show you
How your dogma has abandoned you
Pray to your Christ, to your god
Never taste of the fruit
Never stray, never break
Never---choke on a lie
Even though he's the one who did this to you
You never thought to question why
Not like you killed someone
It's Not like you drove a spiteful spear into his side
Talk to Jesus Christ
As if he knows the reasons why
He did it all for you
Did it all for you
He did it all for you..
-- Modified on 9/16/2004 7:39:39 AM
Agreed, although APC is mostly Billy Howerdel's project with Maynard James Keenan's lyrics and vocals, and they use various other musicians to fill in the parts, whereas Tool has been the same band for 10 years. Also, Adam Jones is a much more technically proficient guitarist than Howerdel, but Howerdel and Keenan write more melodic songs, wheras Tool is like a cross between prog-rock and alternative metal.
Did you know Howerdel used to be the guitar tech for Trent Reznor (Mr. Nine Inch Nails), and then decided to make his own music? He met Keenan, recruited a few musicians, and got Alan Moulder (NIN's producer) to produce "Mer de Noms" (APC's debut). I saw APC open for NIN in San Diego back in June of 2000.
Didn't know all that - thanks. I'm quite impressed with the drummer for Tool (second to the lyrics and voice of Keenan).
My all time fave is Roger Waters (lyrics of Kennan are fantastic - but, IMHO, not many can compare to Waters).
Well, I guess were off the political topic a bit (although these artists are political). To this end,
FUCK Bushie, YEAAAAAAAAAAH Baby !!! (in honor of the Geezer).