Tag: songwriting

John The Revelator

John the Revelator saw the Son of Man
With seven stars and seven lampstands
Eyes of fire and hair of wool
Voice like a roaring waterfall
He said I was dead but now I’m alive
Do you want to walk with me in the light
If you have ears, then hear my cry
The Devil wears a long red tie

John the Revelator saw God on his throne
With a face that shone like a precious stone
Twenty-four elders in crowns of gold
Seven lit torches so the story’s told
Around the throne on each of its sides
A lion, a bull, an eagle in flight
Each creature covered in eyes
To better see the Devil in a long red tie

John the Revelator saw the lamb and the scroll
Saw the lamb die and saw him made whole
Saw the lamb break the seven seals
Saw the horses heard the trumpet peals
Hail and fire, a sea of blood
Poisoned water and the sun was struck
The seventh trumpet signalled time
For the Devil in the long red tie

John the Revelator saw the clouds blacken
Saw the sky filled with a great red dragon
Seven heads with a crown on each one
Chased the woman with the dress made from the sun
John the Revelator saw it happen
John the Revelator saw the Great Red Dragon
Ten horns and fourteen eyes
The dragon wore a long red tie

John saw a beast rise from the sea
And the beast’s name was Blasphemy
Ten horns on seven heads held high
Blasphemy wore a long red tie
John saw a beast rise from the earth
Made everybody praise the first beast’s worth
Made fire rain from the sky
The beast wore a long red tie

The beast of the earth risen from slumber
Made the people wear its mark or its number
Forbidding them to sell or buy
Unless they wore a long red tie

John saw a lake of sulphur and fire
In which to cast the Devil and Liar
Eternal torment dispensed from on high
For the Devil in the long red tie
For the Devil in the long red tie
For the Devil in the long red tie

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Baking For Billionaires

The farmer grows the wheat
The farmer sows the seeds
The farmer tills and harvests
To meet the baker’s needs

The miller grinds the wheat
The straw and chaff she’ll scour
Separating germ and bran
To make the baker’s flour

Meanwhile you bake
The cake that they take
And crumbs are all they say
Your cake is worth

The bigger the cake
The more crumbs it makes
And that’s the way they say
That baking works

The farmer grows the beet
Made ready to eat
The baker needs the sugar
To keep the baking sweet

Of butter, milk, and eggs
It’s often left unsaid
That cruelty concedes
To what the baker needs

Meanwhile you bake
The cake that they take
And crumbs are all they say
Your cake is worth

The bigger the cake
The more crumbs it makes
And that’s the way they say
That baking works

The cake keeps getting bigger
While the same old crumbs fall down
The baker’s getting thinner
It’s the same all round the town

The cake keeps getting bigger
But the table’s getting higher
The baker’s getting thinner
And the bakery’s on fire

Meanwhile you bake
The cake that they take
And crumbs are all they say
Your cake is worth

The bigger the cake
The more crumbs it makes
And that’s the way they say
That baking works

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The Pumpkin Dance

Hold your fists eye high
Wave bye-bye
Bombers in the sky
Do the pumpkin guy

Sway your hips
In the pumpkin stance
Don’t give a shit
Do the pumpkin dance

Now who’s looking at the Epstein files?

Now who’s talking ‘bout Palestine?

Now who’s buying Vladimir’s oil?

Now whose regime needs to change?

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Billionaires And Paedophiles

Just for a moment we were shocked
A light shone on the filthy rot
Those Epstein files had the lot
Then off we all jolly well popped

Billionaires and paedophiles
Mandy’s smirk and Andy’s smile
Donny there the whole while
Billionaires and paedophiles

Like the clock had stopped then boom
Warfare filled the room
He’d only gone and done it, damn
The pumpkin had bombed Iran

Billionaires and paedophiles
AI guided missiles
They had the lot, those Epstein files
Billionaires and paedophiles

Pumpkin Trump and his mate Benny
Watching war like it was telly
A girls’ school bombed, but what the hey
Democracy is on its way

Billionaires and paedophiles
Robot misguided missiles
They had the lot, those Epstein files
Billionaires and paedophiles

As shit as Chat GPT
Rubbish dressed as certainty
Facts are not the currency
Of the crypto-bro insurgency

Billionaires and paedophiles
Children pulverised and devils smile
They had the lot, those Epstein files
Billionaires and paedophiles

Cheap gas at the pump wins votes
Now the cost of living’s going up like smoke
Cos the what is it good for
Evading the law
Has gone to war
Siccing Maven and Claude
On kids, surprise
The chat bot decides who lives and dies
The ignoble prize
Distraction maybe
Willy waving
And hey there’s Tony
Who’d have thought it
If there’s a war he sought it
If there’s a crime he brought it
A dollar he caught it
And it’s
No signal just noise
From the crypto boys
The bros just chose
The general’s clothes
Why get exposed
When it’s a game
Where profits, rape and bombs
Are all the same

Billionaires and paedophiles
Billionaires and paedophiles
Billionaires and paedophiles
Billionaires and paedophiles

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The Enemy Of Your Enemy

Andy and Mandy getting done for secrecy
While no one’s getting done for rape
Meanwhile in the United States
He’s gone to war in Iran with his man Benny
A man with many bodies on his hands
In Palestinian lands
Oh man, where does it end
When the enemy of your enemy definitely
Ain’t your friend

Now they’re bombing kids from the girls’ school
Cos that’s what they think big men do
Big men who do child sexual exploitation
Kidnap and kill heads of other nations
Well at least the ones with loads of oil
Oil for the bully to despoil
Makes your blood boil, where does it end
When the enemy of your enemy definitely
Ain’t your friend

War, what is it good for?
It’s good for staying out of trouble with the law
Making totally exonerated yesterday’s news
Corruption’s tolerated when the missiles cruise
It’s good for Dan Eck, big tech, war machine makers
Stock price gamblers, military fakers
Killing neighbours, where does it end
When the enemy of your enemy definitely
Ain’t your friend

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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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