1. Pints Of Guinness Make You Strong
2. The Politics Of Starving
3. We Laugh At Danger (And Break All The
Rules)
4. I Still Love You Julie
5. Scream It Until You're Coughing Up
Blood
6. Jordan's 1st Choice
7. Those Anarcho Punks Are Mysterious...
8. Reinventing Axl Rose
9. Baby, I'm An Anarchist!
10. Walking Is Still Honest
11. 8 Full Hours Of Sleep
Pints Of Guinness Make You Strong
Evelyn sits by the elevator doors, it's been 37
years since James died on St. Patrick's day in 1964. But she could
not hold it against him. There were times when there was nothing
she could do but lie in bed all day beside a picture of them together,
a picture of better days. And just like James I'll be drinking irish
tonight and the memory of this last workweek will be gone forever.
Evelyn I'm not coming home tonight. If we're never together if I'm
never back again well I swear to god that I'll love you forever.
Evelyn I'm not coming home tonight. In all the years that went by
she said she'd always love him, and from the day that he died she never
loved again. In his wallet she kept in her nightstand an A.A. card
and a lock of red hair. She kept secrets of pride locked so tight
in her heart it killed a part of her before the rest was gone. She
said, "If I would have known just how things would have ended up I just
would have let myself die."
The Politics Of Starving
It's time for some real world politics, economics,
history, math, and english. There are some of us who have, and some
that go without. America and justice are not synonymous. For
all the fights, for all the songs, all we said. All we have is these
pictures of us. And if it doesn't matter now then it never really
did, without this we might as well be dead. They're all black and
white people, and that doesn't have anything to do with us. After
all these years it's still an arms race, after all these years they still
don't fucking get it. Lives and cultures matter more than capitalist
interest. It's the CIA, it's the FBI, the IMF, from HMO's to MTV.
Fuck you. For all the fights, for all the songs, all we said.
All we have is these pictures of us. And if it doesn't matter now
then it never really did, without this we might as well be dead.
When you are so hungry that you'd believe anything. They're selling
you the politics of starving. What the fuck does that mean to us?
We Laugh At Danger (And Break All The Rules)
It was a birthday gift of a mexican telecaster
that from this day on I will play along to all my young pioneers records.
And there will be a poetry spoken silently between me and the stereo.
I'll work mornings and you can work through the night. Mary, there
is no hope for us. If this gm van don't make it across the state
line we might as well lay down and die. Because if Florida takes
us, we're taking everyone down with us. Where we're coming from (yeah)
will be the death of us. And I cannot help but hold on to a handful
of times when what was spoken was a revolution in itself, and what we were
doing was the only thing that mattered. And how good it felt to kill
the memory of nights spent holding your shirt from the smell. I heard
you used to cry when you made love to him, but this band will play on.
Because all we can do is what we've always done. And on and on...
I Still Love You Julie (Dance Mix 2002)
Last night, a room full drunk sang along to the
songs I never had the courage to write. Given the chance I'd stay
in this chorus forever, where everything ugly in this world is sadly beautiful
(In our desperate memories). No we're not going to call everyone
on their shit tonight. Even though the half of you won't even smile
the next time we pass on the street. Maybe somehow this scam will
still save us all. And I saw you dancing at a punk rock show, and
for a moment we walked streets that everyone else had given up to four
a.m. Cursed promises and spray paint marking everywhere we went,
and every direction only going as far as we let it. There are so
many things we try to do truthfully, by the time it's through with us it
all falls apart. Maybe somehow this scam will save us all.
Scream It Until You're Coughing Up Blood (Jamaican
Me Crazy)
Everything you've got to hold on to. Everything
you relied on to be there for you is completely fucked. There's a
skeleton of loyalty hanging in the gallows of your heart (No one wins this
one). And where are your friends? Please help me through these
years ahead. Are we just drinking buddies playing with each other's
dearest vulnerability, that this is all we know. So this is how it's
gonna stay? I think I would rather remember how it was and go our
separate ways. I don't feel anything unless we are living and dying
for each other every second of our lives. Everything you thought
that it would be. Everything you thought you were living for is completely
fucked. This is no place to be. And if we don't get out of
here right now we're just gonna end up drunk, fucking, fighting, and working
machines. If I have another cigarette, if I drink another beer, sit
quiet another time when I should've said, "Oh, this is too much.
These are things I never wanted to be." This ship has sprung a leak
and I'll be damned if I'm going down with it. Still breathing at
any cost.
Jordan's 1st Choice
Tell me how could you compromise yourself like
this? How can you blame anyone else when you aren't really committed?
Where was your head when you broke that promise to yourself, the one where
you don't forget every life lesson that happened before your eyes?
So you don't wake up to regret she's gone years away. You had hopes
and dreams of a day where everything would come together. You wouldn't
have to be so scared. Are we just working until a day we decide we've
had enough? All along we were strong enough to be sick of it.
Put them all back in their fucking place. We were never in this together.
The reality that you know is just behind your idea of a society, security
and self. Am I just fucked up cause I can't remember the last time
any of this made sense, the last time I could stand up to myself?
Street faces all blend into one, they ask for spare change. Am I
forgetting what it looks like from the other side, have I forgotten where
I've come from?
Those Anarcho Punks Are Mysterious...
We're all presidents, we're all congressmen, we're
all cops in waiting. We are the workers of the world. There
is the elite and the dispossessed. It's only about survival.
Who has the skill to play the game for what it's worth, and reach an obscure
kind of perfection. Let's try and keep as much emotion out of this
as possible. Let's try not to remember any names. We'll do
it for a country, for a people, for a moral vision. United we'll
make them remember our history. Or how we'd like to be told.
How we like to be told. We rock (as in the act of, not the state
of being) because it's us against them we found our own reasons to sing,
and it's so much less confusing when lines are drawn like that. When
people are either consumers or revolutionaries, enemies or friends.
Hanging onto the fringes of the cogs in the system. It's just about
knowing where everyone stands. All of the sudden people start talking
about guns, talking like they're going to war. Cause they found something
to die for. Start taking back what they stole, sure beats every other
option. But does it make a difference how we get it? Well do
you really fucking get it?
Reinventing Axl Rose
We want a band that plays loud and hard every night.
That doesn't care how many people are counted at the door. That would
travel one million miles and ask for nothing but a plate of food and a
place to rest. They'd strike chords that cut like a knife.
It would mean so much more than a t-shirt or ticket stub, they would stop
at nothing short of a massacre. Everyone would leave with the memory
that there was no place else in the world and this was where they always
belonged. We would dance like no one was watching, with one fist
in the air. Our arenas just basements and bookstores across an underground
america. With this fire we could. We want a scene where the
music is free, where beer is not the life of the party. There's no
need to shit talk or impress cause honesty and emotion are not looked down
upon. And every promise that's made and bragged would be meant if
not kept. We'd do it all because we have to not because we know why.
Beyond a gender race and class we could find what really holds us back.
Let's make everybody sing that they are the beginning and ending of everything.
That we all are stronger than everything they taught us that we should
fear.
Baby, I'm An Anarchist!
Through the best of times, through the worst of
times. Through Nixon and through Bush. Do you remember '36,
we went our separate ways, you fought for Stalin and I fought for freedom?
You believe in authority, I believe in myself. I'm a molotov cocktail,
you're the dom perignon. Baby, what's that confused look in your
eye? What I'm trying to say is that I'll burn down buildings while
you sit on a shelf inside of them. You call the cops on the looters
and pie throwers. They call it class war, I call them co-conspirators.
Cause baby, I'm an anarchist and you're a spineless liberal. We marched
together for the 8 hour day and held hands in the streets of Seattle.
But when it came time to throw bricks through that starbucks window you
left me all alone. You watched in awe at the red, white, and blue
on the 4th of July. But while those fireworks were exploding I was
burning that fucker and stringing my black flag high. Eating the
peanuts that the parties have tossed you. In the back seat of your
father's new ford you believe in the ballot, you believe in reform.
You have faith in the elephant and jackass. And to you solidarity
is a four letter word. We're all hypocrites, but you're a patriot.
You thought I was only joking when I was screaming, "Kill whitey" at the
top of my lungs at the cops in their cars and the men in their suits.
No I won't take your hand and marry the state.
Walking Is Still Honest
Dear mother, this is just survival. Can't
promise your children everything, but you won't lie so they can sleep tonight.
Defeat tasted nothing like you said. Still 22 days left till the
end of the world. My legacy was making you a man. For a justice
I could not change. This is one voice not to forget. Fight
every fight like you can win. An iron fisted champion, an iron willed
fuck up. Can anybody tell me why god won't speak to me? Why
jesus never called on me to part the fucking seas? Why death is easier
than living? You can be almost anything when you're on your
fucking knees. Not today, not my son, not my family, not while walking
is still honest and you haven't given up on me. Dear shithead, this
isn't happening. The sky is really falling, the paint's all made
of lead, there's asbestos in the walls. Hell's coming to rip off
the doors to your privileged heaven. Do you want to love and feel
it? You can look but you can't taste it. You can reach but
you'll never have it. We are untouchable, untouchable is something
to be.
8 Full Hours Of Sleep
When you sleep, there's no such thing as homeless.
When you sleep, you can't feel the hunger. When you sleep, no one
is lonely in a dream. Without classes, without nations. When
you sleep, she's standing there with open arms and one night could last
forever, and if you asked her, she'd never let go. And you'd stay
forever. And the sun's always rising in the sky somewhere.
And if young hearts should explode from all the lies they've been told,
let the new night bring you peace. And the promise of tomorrow.
Where we can wake to a new beginning. Tomorrow, I'll all but have
lost their faces, my friends and family. Memories of all we had and
the times we should have lived. And tomorrow America just might fall
apart. Tomorrow, tell me where will you wake up? Beyond title,
beyond lease, careers and laws. Something more than borders on a
map. And the sun's always falling in the sky somewhere. And
if young hearts should explode, from all the lies they've been told.
To live through one night like this... I would trade it for the silence.