Don't you know
They're talkin' bout a revolution
It sounds like a whisper
Don't you know
They're talkin' about a revolution
It sounds like a whisper
While they're standing in the welfare lines
Crying at the doorsteps of those armies of salvation
Wasting time in the unemployment lines
Sitting around waiting for a promotion
Poor people gonna rise up
And get their share
Poor people gonna rise up
And take what's theirs
Don't you know
You better run, run, run...
Oh I said you better
Run, run, run...
Finally the tables are starting to turn
Talkin' bout a revolution
Tracy Chapman - Talking bout a revolution.
I love this woman, she has a great style.
Feel free to add more shtuff like lyrics that you like. I know we have plenty of these but so what. There are a lot of great songs.
Don't you know?
Moderators: Drolgin Steingrinder, Truant
- Canelek
- Super Poster!
- Posts: 9380
- Joined: July 3, 2002, 1:23 pm
- Gender: Male
- XBL Gamertag: Canelek
- Location: Portland, OR
PROPAGANDHI
"Hate, Myth, Muscle, Etiquette"
Mark your point of failing. It begins where you concede.
Hesitate. Procrastinate. Sedating.
All configured to impede your path.
You need a good kick in the ass.
Now take a step back and have a long hard look.
Hold it to the light and read it like a book.
Analyze the past and present to see what is to come.
Now wrap your lips around the barrel of the gun.
Mark my point of failing. It began where I gave in.
Comfort. Convenience. Placating.
Construed to suck me in, to their trap.
I need a good kick in the ass.
As time passed I realized we don't need rules to survive.
Just common sense and means to subsist.
So from here on in I will resist.
I've finally realized. I've found my way at last.
It's finally evident.
We all need a kick in the ass.
The basis of change: educate! Derived from discussion,
not hate, not myth, not muscle, not etiquette.
Intellect, not "re-elect!".
Status symbols yield to respect between sex, species, environment.
"Hate, Myth, Muscle, Etiquette"
Mark your point of failing. It begins where you concede.
Hesitate. Procrastinate. Sedating.
All configured to impede your path.
You need a good kick in the ass.
Now take a step back and have a long hard look.
Hold it to the light and read it like a book.
Analyze the past and present to see what is to come.
Now wrap your lips around the barrel of the gun.
Mark my point of failing. It began where I gave in.
Comfort. Convenience. Placating.
Construed to suck me in, to their trap.
I need a good kick in the ass.
As time passed I realized we don't need rules to survive.
Just common sense and means to subsist.
So from here on in I will resist.
I've finally realized. I've found my way at last.
It's finally evident.
We all need a kick in the ass.
The basis of change: educate! Derived from discussion,
not hate, not myth, not muscle, not etiquette.
Intellect, not "re-elect!".
Status symbols yield to respect between sex, species, environment.
en kærlighed småkager
- Drolgin Steingrinder
- Way too much time!
- Posts: 3510
- Joined: July 3, 2002, 5:28 pm
- Gender: Male
- PSN ID: Drolgin
- Location: Århus, Denmark
I got cash in fuck you quantities
Now what
That makes you uncomfortable?
Fuck you and the Range Rover you drove in on
Fuck your Saab convertible
And your twice weekly trips to the analyst
Stupid Motherfuck
Fuck the Hamptons,
Maine
And fly-infested south of France
I'm paid, asshole
Got more cash than God can count
So why don't you just...die?
Choke on your damn designer bagel from Balducci's
Low cholesterol, naturally
Fuck your big old Sunday New York Times
Fuck the Wall Street Journal
And Newsweek and the lot
Including Nation, Village Voice, Guardian and the rest
Stupid set of priviledged motherfuckers
Think it's fashionable to have an 'alternative view'
An alternative view.
And fuck, if you can,
Your pencil thin, evian drinking
Calorie counting, caffeine limiting
sodium sparing, nutra-sweet sweetening
rear-view-mirror-preening
carrot-nibbling
bunny
Go drown in a lake of diet coke, fucker
I got cash
What else matters?
I got cash
Slave
Fuck your fencing
Screw your squash
Piss on your polo and your Pavarotti
Fuck all that shit you call music and pretend to enjoy
I got cash
Mega cash
Unhappy with that?
Oh, go sit on your ski rack!
Money talks
You little pussy
And let your politically correct pals know
That I think you're a dick also
Neutered asshole
And your idea of multiculturalism
Japanese restaurant on Monday
Indian on Tuesday
And on Wednesday, Carribbean - not too spicy please
Well, I've got stash on stash
And it ain't nouveau cash
Money's been in my family for generations
My great, great, great grandfather made the bag
Selling European slaves in Africa
I got cash, motherfucker
And you can't tell
Whether or not I'm joking
Can you?
Dumb fuck
Now what
That makes you uncomfortable?
Fuck you and the Range Rover you drove in on
Fuck your Saab convertible
And your twice weekly trips to the analyst
Stupid Motherfuck
Fuck the Hamptons,
Maine
And fly-infested south of France
I'm paid, asshole
Got more cash than God can count
So why don't you just...die?
Choke on your damn designer bagel from Balducci's
Low cholesterol, naturally
Fuck your big old Sunday New York Times
Fuck the Wall Street Journal
And Newsweek and the lot
Including Nation, Village Voice, Guardian and the rest
Stupid set of priviledged motherfuckers
Think it's fashionable to have an 'alternative view'
An alternative view.
And fuck, if you can,
Your pencil thin, evian drinking
Calorie counting, caffeine limiting
sodium sparing, nutra-sweet sweetening
rear-view-mirror-preening
carrot-nibbling
bunny
Go drown in a lake of diet coke, fucker
I got cash
What else matters?
I got cash
Slave
Fuck your fencing
Screw your squash
Piss on your polo and your Pavarotti
Fuck all that shit you call music and pretend to enjoy
I got cash
Mega cash
Unhappy with that?
Oh, go sit on your ski rack!
Money talks
You little pussy
And let your politically correct pals know
That I think you're a dick also
Neutered asshole
And your idea of multiculturalism
Japanese restaurant on Monday
Indian on Tuesday
And on Wednesday, Carribbean - not too spicy please
Well, I've got stash on stash
And it ain't nouveau cash
Money's been in my family for generations
My great, great, great grandfather made the bag
Selling European slaves in Africa
I got cash, motherfucker
And you can't tell
Whether or not I'm joking
Can you?
Dumb fuck
IT'S HARD TO PUT YOUR FINGER ON IT; SOMETHING IS WRONG
I'M LIKE THE UNCLE WHO HUGGED YOU A LITTLE TOO LONG
I'M LIKE THE UNCLE WHO HUGGED YOU A LITTLE TOO LONG
Capitalism
There's nothing wrong with Capitalism
There's nothing wrong with free enterprise
Don't try to make me feel guilty
I'm so tired of hearing you cry
There's nothing wrong with making some profit
If you ask me I'll say it's just fine
There's nothing wrong with wanting to live nice
I'm so tired of hearing you whine
About the revolution
Bringin' down the rich
When was the last time you dug a ditch, baby!
If it ain't one thing
Then it's the other
Any cause that crosses your path
Your heart bleeds for anyone's brother
I've got to tell you you're a pain in the ass
You criticize with plenty of vigor
You rationalize everything that you do
With catchy phrases and heavy quotations
And everybody is crazy but you
You're just a middle class, socialist brat
From a suburban family and you never really had to work
And you tell me that we've got to get back
To the struggling masses (whoever they are)
You talk, talk, talk about suffering and pain
Your mouth is bigger than your entire brain
What the hell do you know about suffering and pain . . .
(Repeat first verse)
(Repeat chorus)
There's nothing wrong with Capitalism
There's nothing wrong with Capitalism
There's nothing wrong with Capitalism
There's nothing wrong with Capitalism
Capitalism - Oingo Boingo
There's nothing wrong with Capitalism
There's nothing wrong with free enterprise
Don't try to make me feel guilty
I'm so tired of hearing you cry
There's nothing wrong with making some profit
If you ask me I'll say it's just fine
There's nothing wrong with wanting to live nice
I'm so tired of hearing you whine
About the revolution
Bringin' down the rich
When was the last time you dug a ditch, baby!
If it ain't one thing
Then it's the other
Any cause that crosses your path
Your heart bleeds for anyone's brother
I've got to tell you you're a pain in the ass
You criticize with plenty of vigor
You rationalize everything that you do
With catchy phrases and heavy quotations
And everybody is crazy but you
You're just a middle class, socialist brat
From a suburban family and you never really had to work
And you tell me that we've got to get back
To the struggling masses (whoever they are)
You talk, talk, talk about suffering and pain
Your mouth is bigger than your entire brain
What the hell do you know about suffering and pain . . .
(Repeat first verse)
(Repeat chorus)
There's nothing wrong with Capitalism
There's nothing wrong with Capitalism
There's nothing wrong with Capitalism
There's nothing wrong with Capitalism
Capitalism - Oingo Boingo
No nation was ever ruined by trade.
– Benjamin Franklin
– Benjamin Franklin