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lyrics

the phony tough and crazy brave have aligned
and the music that they make drives me out of my mind
every time that my ears are subjected
Big Brother's torture device that is aiming to slice reality
from its firm grip on my mentality
my arms aren't strong enough to cover my ears from the years of abuse
so what's the use in complaining about the monster we produced?
down on the street it's loose and runs rampant
then with such ease we planted the seeds of illusion
and it's grown into a problem of great magnitude
and no way of resolving
spun out of control
lost soul with a heavy agenda
great pretender meet the populous
dead set on stopping this forward progression of the ones
who receive the oppression and abuse
i don't see the use in complaining
if the name calling and the finger pointing is remaining
closed minds training one another for a battle of attrition
a friendly fire based mission of madness
closing out a decade of sadness
the emperor's new clothes cut off his access to rational thought
his mind and spine are a yellow streak
disguised as a hardline

hand over fist
top name on a VIP blacklist 'cause i study their tactics
i don't need my news delivered by actors
i don't need war with private benefactors
it used to mobilize a nation
now all it does is add to the workingman's frustration
echoes of a bygone era
communism has a little brother
that the world calls terror at the moment
-ism's the main component
they stomp on the world like they own it
i wish i wasn't in the path
because when the nunchucks we're all gonna face the wrath
statues crumble for me like McGrath in a sense
nothing is spared at my expense
funny this is i see no benefits
not even fringes before my door busts off the hinges
the world can't wait
they'll scoop us all up and it'll be too late to circulate our opinion
number one amendment benefit to so called American living
if you don't hide you are driven to the side
of course this type will use force to collide with the opposition
they don't have time to listen
business comes first on this simple mission

credits

from The Weather Underground, released January 1, 2005
written/produced by Chief

license

all rights reserved

tags

about

Chief and TheDoomsdayDevice Austin, Texas

Chief and TheDoomsdayDevice
:: mc : dj : producer : artist ::

A wordsmith with the heart of a poet and the head of a broadcast journalist. A DJ who is not afraid to venture outside of the norm. A producer with a different vocabulary of influences, and no fear whatsoever about embracing them. An artist searching for the link between the palette and the pixel. ... more

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