Sir Kier sheds no tear for Maduro For international law is his call On kidnap, oil and violence From Sir Kier simply silence In a statement as weak as it is small
Sir Kier sheds no tear for Venezuela Of the people, he said nothing at all
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
Your grandad shot at nazis taxed the rich and built the NHS You mum fought for equality and fairness, nonetheless we sleepwalked into the arms of bastard billionaires Now you hang flags from lampposts and mouth pantomime prayers
Dogs, pigs, three-year-old kids Eating one the law forbids Convention says the second is Similarly deterred While of the tragic third Consumption is preferred Which is absurd When you consider The pig desires to not be dinner As much as the kid Would rather not get et And don’t forget the dog Who one simply does not eat While he snoozes at your feet Why not let All three be free To snooze and play And not be tea
In Eleanor’s vineyard, Tommy’s on his knees, pretending to pray He holds his bible upside down and wonders what Charlie would say His god washed Islamophobic endeavour gains new followers every day But he’s a coked up criminal grifter who’s going away
And they sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest
You can’t write everybody off, some folk are just taken in The difference between influenced and influencers is written on the tin But when the fascists are at the door be sure to not let them in And he’s a coked up criminal grifter who should be in the bin
And they sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest
Now Jesus of Nazareth was many things But nationalism won’t win you your angel wings Your patriotic cross is just so much toss So you can Oh Tommy Tommy off
When they sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ They sing ‘Oh, Tommy, Tommy’ and we sing ‘Fuck off’ Sometimes you just got to get it off your chest
He died for his country The first of the fallen From Operation Raise The Colours
The tributes came pouring in From football hooligans And casual sisters and brothers
Banned for life from Bristol City Now he’s banned in Bristol City from life He leaves behind Michele, his wife He leaves his ladders to the flag committee
His life was colourful, it’s said Like the roundabouts he painted red And the thoughts rushing through his head With the pavement straight ahead
He died for his country The first of the fallen From Operation Raise The Colours
My advice: don’t hang the flags at all But if you do, get some footed help from others
There’s a particular breed of British protest music that refuses to die quietly, despite every attempt by algorithms and streaming platforms to suffocate it with playlists and bite-sized consumption. Steve White & The Protest Family’s Evidence-Based Punk Rock belongs to this stubborn lineage, standing defiantly at the crossroads where Billy Bragg’s righteous fury meets the Manic Street Preachers’ conceptual ambition.
What ultimately elevates Evidence-Based Punk Rock above mere agitprop is its refusal to wallow in despair. The press release’s declaration that “things might be grim, but better world is possible” isn’t just marketing copy—it’s the album’s beating heart. In an era where cynicism masquerades as sophistication, there’s something genuinely punk about maintaining hope while clear-eyed about the obstacles.
Steve White & The Protest Family 