Unknown Artist - Unknown Track (1980s)

Anarcho-punk, 1970s Anarcho-punk, Experimental Punk, 1970s Experimental Punk, Strange Punk Rock

Teaching Little Johnny to shoot a gun,
"A terrific way", say father, "to get to know your son."
Spare parts, body parts, I'm somebody.
Ever seen the legs and arms of some poor squaddy?
Signs in the food stores, advertising meat,
Beef blade, chuck roast, last you all the week.
They're telling you you like it, you're saying that you do,
They don't have to force it and tell you how to chew.
You swallow it whole, without a fucking squeak,
Sitting there quietly up they creep.
You think you're fucking different, you think it's you and them,
If they asked you a question, you'd ask them when.
You think you're hard done by, but you just want the same,
Chicken thighs, human thighs, it's all the same old game.
Well, you made the choice, money, sex and crime,
Tight little egos asking for the time.
Well I ain't got it, you can sit in your pit,
Middle class, working class, it's all a load of shit.
Middle class, working class, it's all a load of shit.
Middle class, working class, it's all a load of shit.
Middle class, working class, it's all a load of shit.
[Verse 2]
They're selling you the freedom in a shrink-wrapped box
Telling you it’s paradise, just follow the clocks
They’ve turned your desperation into a fashion trend
Bleeding you dry until there's nothing left to spend
They're shipping off the junkies, off to war again
For the corporations' profits, they don’t feel the pain
They've got you in a corner with your mouth sewn shut
You scream inside, but it's just another rut
They’re handing you the poison, but you drink it slow
Thinking maybe this time, the truth will start to show

[Verse 3]
They're breeding mindless armies in the shopping mall
Feeding on the dreams that make the weak ones crawl
They're selling you the nightmare with a discount tag
Wrap it up in plastic, it’s the latest fad
You’re dancing on the ashes of a burned-out world
But you keep on spinning, with your flag unfurled
You think you're in control, but you're just a pawn
In a game that’s rigged before the dawn
They’re laughing in the boardrooms as they count the cash
While you’re left to drown in the toxic trash
While you’re left to drown in the toxic trash

While you’re left to drown in the toxic trash
While you’re left to drown in the toxic trash
it’s privately owned, but that’s a load of shit
its privately owned, but that’s a load of shit

2739/7500

they using skpeples with plastic chairs relentless fuckers fool your affairs moaning baby stomies with a permanent smileil keep the bleeders early in red can foil giving you the chance to be a plastic rap rat a doglly smehead full of fucking cra making little doll talk to you it's a bo baby bar tender love and bleed not a joyy making plastic fairist all fuck shake your tr and wash up more fuck Teaching Little Johnny to shoot a gun, "A terrific way", say father, "to get to know your son." Spare parts, body parts, I'm somebody. Ever seen the legs and arms of some poor squaddy? Signs in the food stores, advertising meat, Beef blade, chuck roast, last you all the week. They're telling you you like it, you're saying that you do, They don't have to force it and tell you how to chew. You swallow it whole, without a fucking squeak, Sitting there quietly up they creep. You think you're fucking different, you think it's you and them, If they asked you a question, you'd ask them when. You think you're hard done by, but you just want the same, Chicken thighs, human thighs, it's all the same old game. Well, you made the choice, money, sex and crime, Tight little egos asking for the time. Well I ain't got it, you can sit in your pit, Middle class, working class, it's all a load of shit. Middle class, working class, it's all a load of shit. Middle class, working class, it's all a load of shit. Middle class, working class, it's all a load of shit. [Verse 2] They're selling you the freedom in a shrink-wrapped box Telling you it’s paradise, just follow the clocks They’ve turned your desperation into a fashion trend Bleeding you dry until there's nothing left to spend They're shipping off the junkies, off to war again For the corporations' profits, they don’t feel the pain They've got you in a corner with your mouth sewn shut You scream inside, but it's just another rut They’re handing you the poison, but you drink it slow Thinking maybe this time, the truth will start to show [Verse 3] They're breeding mindless armies in the shopping mall Feeding on the dreams that make the weak ones crawl They're selling you the nightmare with a discount tag Wrap it up in plastic, it’s the latest fad You’re dancing on the ashes of a burned-out world But you keep on spinning, with your flag unfurled You think you're in control, but you're just a pawn In a game that’s rigged before the dawn They’re laughing in the boardrooms as they count the cash While you’re left to drown in the toxic trash While you’re left to drown in the toxic trash While you’re left to drown in the toxic trash While you’re left to drown in the toxic trash it’s privately owned, but that’s a load of shit its privately owned, but that’s a load of shit

0/500