Where will the musos go When Suno makes the tunes Where will the brushes go When the artist is AI Who will make the art When the robot eats the artists When the robot is a thief Then the art is just a lie
Where will the authors go When the program writes the novels Who will draw cartoons When the satire is AI Who will make the art When the robot eats the artists When the robot is a thief Then the art is just a lie
When the art is just a lie When the art is just a lie Who will sing songs by and by Write the books that make you cry Paint the most amazing sky When the art is just a lie
When computers take to stages In empty concert halls And galleries are filled With no feelings at all How then to be human When the art is all AI When the art has no soul When the art is just a lie
When the art is just a lie When the art is just a lie Who will sing songs by and by Write the books that make you cry Paint the most amazing sky When the art is just a lie
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
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.
Peter The Homeless Santa Plotted up outside the Little Tesco We exchange the usual banter But there’s not much room for a Ho, Ho, Ho He’d be better off in a stable But stable ain’t what he’s got Peter The Homeless Santa Is in his usual spot
Peter The Homeless Santa Has a beard that’s not exactly white as snow But it’s gone greyer quicker Than an indoor beard would go Peter The Homeless Santa Is making a list, he’s checking it twice A tenner would be lovely A sandwich might be nice
He ain’t got a reindeer, he ain’t got a sleigh He ain’t even got a safe place to stay It might as well be Christmas every day ‘Cause every day’s the same on the streets
Peter The Homeless Santa Gets a wave as people come and go Some might stop for a few words But he has no use for mistletoe Peter The Homeless Santa No stocking, no Christmas tree Peter The Homeless Santa Three missing pay checks could be you or me
He ain’t got a reindeer, he ain’t got a sleigh He ain’t even got a safe place to stay It might as well be Christmas every day ‘Cause every day’s the same on the streets
Every Christmas, Santa Had a gift for me in his sack So Outside Little Tesco I try to give Santa a little back
He ain’t got a reindeer, he ain’t got a sleigh He ain’t even got a safe place to stay It might as well be Christmas every day ‘Cause every day’s the same on the streets
Steve White & The Protest Family’s latest LP, ‘Evidence-Based Punk Rock,’ is an album that needs to be heard by the masses. It’s rich with subgenres, political commentary, and conversations that we need to address not just as individuals but as a collective. At the end of the day, Punk was created to shock the system, and this Album did a job well done.
Rachel likes astronomy, looking at the stars Imagining that she can see Jupiter and Mars In the vast expanse of space, she can contemplate her soul But in the New Austerity Inn There’s just a black hole
So, Rachel put the price of the beer up Rachel put a penny on a pint of ale Rachel put the price of the beer up But in the New Austerity Inn It tastes just as stale
Free beer tomorrow says the sign behind the bar But today, no brandy, no cigar You can only have what you can afford And in the New Austerity Inn The price has soared
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it It doesn’t matter that she’s already poured it You said you’d find another pub, but Rachel ignored it Saying you can’t have it if you can’t afford it
Rachel put the price of the beer up Rachel put a penny on a pint of ale Rachel put the price of the beer up But in the New Austerity Inn It tastes just as stale
It’s licensee responsible, the alehouse of the possible This is what it’s like, she says, when grown-ups run the pub But if the beer is undrinkable, they’ll drink the unthinkable In the Old Flag up the road, with Nigel and his club
You can’t have it if you can’t afford it It doesn’t matter that she’s already poured it You said you’d find another pub, but Rachel ignored it Saying you can’t have it if you can’t afford it
Rachel put the price of the beer up Rachel put a penny on a pint of ale Rachel put the price of the beer up But in the New Austerity Inn It tastes just as stale
Steve White & The Protest Family 