Category: Lyrics

The Rich Bloke Said Something Racist

The tax dodger said something racist
Straight on the LBC playlist
The numbers are wrong, but it doesn’t matter
The conversation’s when, not if

The conversation’s details
Picking over entrails
Fetching nails, this mood entails
Sacrifice, not very nice

The cost of living versus cost of life
The cost-of-living vs cost of strife
The cost of living carries a knife
They’re losing it

The poor people phone in
Moanin’, groanin’
Lacking serotonin
The rich man threw ‘em a bone in

The damage is done
The money’s having fun
We’re fighting each other
They look after number one

The tax dodger said something racist
The rich man threw them a bone in
The tax dodger said something racist
Normal on the news and on the phone in

The rich bloke said something racist
Racism is back in style
Racism is back in fashion
It has been for a while
The rich bloke said something racist
The money’s having fun
While we fight each other
They look after number one

The tax dodger said something racist
The homeless guy gets abuse
I’ve got a job, what’s your excuse
Why did your mother even reproduce

You don’t produce, you’re no use
How far can his soul reduce
Their ire profuse, they introduce
An imaginary veteran into the equation

More deserving, served his nation
Worthy of praise, adoration
Give the homeless vet a standing ovation
But this deserves examination

Because they ain’t helping him either
The what about – it’s a deceiver
It’s dog eat dog, let’s face it
The tax dodger said something racist

The rich bloke said something racist
Racism is back in style
Racism is back in fashion
It has been for a while
The rich bloke said something racist
The money’s having fun
While we fight each other
They look after number one

Pay attention to what he says next
Says he didn’t mean to cause offence
Not sorry for what he said
He’s sorry that it got in your head

He’s sorry that you might fight it
He’s sorry you might not watch Man United
He’s sorry he misunderstood football
Where an injury to one is an injury to all

But the damage is done
We’re fighting each other
They look after number one
His words are a starting gun
Someone’s countdown has begun

The rich bloke said something racist
Racism is back in style
Racism is back in fashion
It has been for a while
The rich bloke said something racist
The money’s having fun
While we fight each other
They look after number one

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Rotting From The Inside Out

You can smell it when he’s about
You can hear it when he opens his mouth to spout
Inanities, insanities, profanities
Racist for a moment then denies it
Crazy idea he blue skies it
Kite flies it
He’s rotting from the inside out

Just look at his hand
To understand
Expanding the brand
It ain’t going to plan
He’s rotting from the inside out

Doesn’t care if his lies are found out
If you tell enough lies the truth dies
And liars thrive
His paedo ally’s
Convenient demise
The make-up’s a thin disguise
He’s rotting from the inside out

We’ll still be here when he’s gone
We’ll still be singing our song
About right and wrong
He’s rotting from the inside out

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Epstein’s Island

Everybody knew, everyone could see
If you were on that island
There was no secrecy
But money buys immunity
Money buys impunity
Money buys redaction
Money buys distraction
Satisfaction of your vilest desires
There will always be suppliers
And all this one requires
As he conspires with your weakness
Is your secrets
Is your meekness
Is your trust me, love me
My best friend Jeffrey
Supplier of debauchery
And girls in the minority
Offered for free
Or offered for a fee
Paid in insider dealing
Pain in inner circle feeling
Paid in the squealing
Blood congealing
Ceiling of society
Where money makes the world go round
Money brings hers tumbling down
Money gives the prince a crown
Money makes the law rebound
Money runs the truth aground
Money makes it all allowed
Money draws the party crowd
Take the grist that’s on the list
And burn it to the ground

I’m on my way to Epstein’s Island
I ain’t on the Lolita Express
I’ve got a can of petrol and a box of matches
And I’m gonna make a mess

When it’s burned to the ground
We can put a fence around
And put everyone on Jeffrey’s list
There to subsist
They won’t be missed

Then we’ll go to Mar-a-Lago
And throw open the doors
Free golf for all the people
Melania giving guided tours

We can shit on golden thrones
Make calls on golden phones
The gold shit that he owns
Now in occupied golden homes

Then SpaceX what the heck
Let’s all go to Mars
When we get back we can all go wild
In battery-operated cars

I’m on my way to Epstein’s Island
I ain’t on the Lolita Express
I’ve got a can of petrol and a box of matches
And I’m gonna make a mess

When it’s burned to the ground
We can put a fence around
And put everyone on Jeffrey’s list
There to subsist
They won’t be missed

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I Ain’t Mad At You

“That’s fine, dude
I ain’t mad at you”
So he thought he’d treat her to
A bullet or two
Maybe the third one killed her
When they denied her medical help
On the day the USA
Turned the gun on itself

They pepper sprayed him
But it wasn’t enough
For trigger happy agents
High on acting tough
His last words “Are you okay”
To the woman that he helped
On the day the USA
Turned the gun on itself

Smart uniforms, microphones
And blatant lies
Middle class protesters
Threatened agent’s lives
The world watched in horror
At what could’ve been themselves
On the day the USA
Turned the gun on itself

When the price you pay for freedom
Is a classroom of dead children
Your second amendment rights
Viewed through iron sights
The way you see yourself
On the day the USA
Turned the gun on itself
On the day the USA
Turned the gun on itself

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Minnesota So Cold

Oh Lord, so cold, Minnesota
Oh Lord, so cold, Minnesota
Oh Lord, so cold, Minnesota
Minnesota, oh Lord, so cold

These streets, oh Lord, where George was killed
These streets, oh Lord, still feel the chill
These streets, oh Lord, where George was killed
Minnesota, oh Lord, so cold

These streets, oh Lord, where he shot Renée Good
These streets, oh Lord, just because he could
These streets, oh Lord, where he shot Renée Good
Minnesota, oh Lord, so cold

These streets, oh Lord, where they gunned Alex down
These streets, oh Lord, shot him on the ground
These streets, oh Lord, where they gunned Alex down
Minnesota, oh Lord, so cold

The sun’s gonna shine on Minnesota, oh Lord
The sun’s gonna shine on Minnesota, oh Lord
The sun’s gonna shine on Minnesota, oh Lord
Minnesota, oh Lord, so cold

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Bored Of Peace

He’s a gangster, he’s a liar
Won’t even tell the truth about his height and his weight
He’s a rapist, he’s a grifter
He’s President of the United States
He was the first one to bomb Iran
He’s got masked agents roaming the streets
No-one’s safe from a Trump firearm
He’s got all the guns and now he’s bored of peace
He’s bored of peace
He’s bored of peace
He’s bored of peace

He’s got a bible, he didn’t read it
He says god wants him to lead the Race
You had your warning, you didn’t heed it
Now he’s President of the United States
He’s a colonist, he’s a sinner
Gonna carve up Gaza piece by piece
He’s got a medal but he’s no prize-winner
He’s got all the guns and now he’s bored of peace
He’s bored of peace
He’s bored of peace
He’s bored of peace

He’ll buy you off or just invade ya
He profits from the chaos he creates
Greenland or Venezuela
He’s President of the United States
Rubio, Witkoff, Kushner, Blair
The worst reputations in the middle east
An open invitation to the billionaire
He’s got all the guns and he’s bored of peace
He’s bored of peace
He’s bored of peace
He’s bored of peace
He’s bored of peace
He’s bored of peace
He’s bored of peace

When your silence is compliance
Raise your voice
When your silence is compliance
Raise your voice
Raise your voice
When your silence is compliance
Raise your voice
When your silence is compliance
Raise your voice
Raise your voice
When your silence is compliance
Raise your voice
When your silence is compliance
Raise your voice

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Rosa Plays Monopoly

When Rosa plays monopoly
She can never afford property
She collects two hundred pounds
And gives it to landlords when she goes round

When she lands on the railway
Rosa always pays her way
Monopoly is hard
When someone else has all the cards

When Rosa plays monopoly
She can never afford property
She collects two hundred pounds
And gives it to landlords when she goes round

She pays for utilities too
Just like she’s supposed to do
They’re owned by the bourgeoisie
But at least the parking’s free

When Rosa plays monopoly
She can never afford property
She collects two hundred pounds
And gives it to landlords when she goes round

Chance and community chest
Rosa tries her best
But the game’s designed for her to fail
And she always ends up in jail…

But soon the jail was full of folk
Who’d gone around ‘til they were broke
She said this game’s not fair
How come we never get a share

What if we owned all the stations
There’d be no conversations
About who owes and who’s in chains
We could all just ride the trains

They started to applaud her
She said the electric and the water
This game is awful let’s all revise it
Let’s just nationalise it…

They broke out of jail, marched on Whitehall
Pall Mall was the first to fall
Northumberland Avenue, Bow Street too
The Strand soon came into view

Fleet Street, Trafalgar Square
Piccadilly, almost there
Regent Street, Park Lane
They took Mayfair and finished the game

Now Rosa plays Monopoly
Lands on common-held property
She goes around
And keeps the two hundred pounds

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Invading Venezuela

Regime change, like a nappy never pleasant
Happy New Year from the 47th President
Kidnapped in your PJ’s with your missus in tow
No warm welcome in Mar-a-Lago
It’s all helicopters and prison fatigues
Who’d have what Donny wants in times like these
He’s swapping blood for oil in a murderous coup
Only the blood is yours and the oil is too

Invading Venezuela, it’s gonna pay ya
Invading Venezuela’s gonna pay the bills

Colombia, Mexico, where is he next to go
Greenland better understand he ain’t afraid of NATO
Afraid of NATO, use your brain
You lot shit the bed when they invaded Ukraine
Yeah, Russia is smilin’, China is smilin’
The dictator roundabout is doing just fine, it’s
A blood for oil swap in a murderous coup
Except the blood is yours and the oil is too

Invading Venezuela, it’s gonna pay ya
Invading Venezuela’s gonna pay the bills

Meanwhile in Florida, The Donald’s all smiles
‘Cause no one’s looking at the Epstein files
Feeding the media different trials
Just gotta fly the convict in 2000 miles
But MAGA’s gonna need a big fentanyl high
If they wanna keep turning a MAGA blind eye
He’s swapping blood for oil in a murderous coup
Only the blood is yours and the oil is too

Invading Venezuela, it’s gonna pay ya
Invading Venezuela’s gonna pay the bills

Donroe doctrine, don’t care who’s watching
300 billion barrels and Chevron just clocked in
Exxon and Halliburton shares just locked in
All time high on the Dow Jones dropped in
Invading Venezuela’s gonna pay your investor
Your oil company and military directors
He’s swapping blood for oil in a murderous coup
Only the blood is yours and the oil is too

Invading Venezuela, it’s gonna pay ya
Invading Venezuela’s gonna pay the bills

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Sid Vicious

On a stormy night, I dreamed of Sid Vicious
In the days after the Chelsea Hotel
He said I’m running out of time
And I’ve got a story to tell
Of how he went by Simon or sometimes John
And the things mum had done to get by
He spoke of heroin and homelessness
I let him talk and didn’t reply
But then he said that it was Rotten
Who’d first called him Sid
And Rotten is as Rotten does
But it was Malcolm who decided what they did
He looked tired, but he could tell
That there was something on my mind
He paused and looked straight at me
I said, Sid, I’ve got to ask why
Why, he replied, and I wished I’d not started
But he said, spit it out, kid
Why, I repeated, finally
Why the swastikas, Sid?
He looked at his boots and said, you gotta understand
The Pistols had to be a hit
We needed all the shock that we could muster
To shake them all up a bit
Malcolm was a pervert and we were cartoons
The war was over and the bad guys had lost
We made good telly, you know how it is
No one really counted the cost
And it’s not like we were actually Nazis
Just by sporting the kit
Not even Lemmy, he added
And he really loved that shit
Quite the collection of memorabilia
Uniforms, knives, flags and belts
But Lemmy wasn’t a Nazi
He just thought he was better than everyone else
But I’ll tell you this, his voice was fading
I would never wear one now
It was a bit of punk fun in ‘77
But you’ve just got to look around
We had the NF pantomime fascists
In coopted braces and boots
But never politicians and billionaires
Throwing up Nazi salutes
No, I wouldn’t ever wear one now, Sid said
Because someone will wear it and mean it
Don’t tell me you never watch TV
Don’t tell me you’ve never seen it
I would never wear one now, he said
I would never wear one now
One stormy night, I dreamed of Sid Vicious
Though he was long since dead
It was the days after the Chelsea Hotel
And this is what he said

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