When the oppressors Flaunt Their power When they laugh Not in their sleeves But in your face As they take And cut And take some more Chuckling On their beds of gold And thrones of power When their hands are tightest On the flow Of information Disinformation And lies They feel the safest The strongest That Is The time To strike
The mallet Ancient tool Held by many hands Down through the ages Hands of skill and experience Worn and hardened By labour and care Now Resigned to Tent pegs and vampires
Come on you loons You warrior poets You insane ranters Crank it up! Give us your ideas! Give us your brains! Break the mould Break the world So it can be remade Better
We brave explorers together Wearing imitation leather And as silent as a feather We toiled through the darkest weather onto our prize
Through mountains and valleys, we walked By tigers and lions were stalked And as brave as we always talked There came a time when we just baulked against the size
Of the hunger in our bellies Off with our explorer wellies Broke out the ice cream and jellies And retreated to the telly’s noisy comfort
Permit me to speak Permit me to say The truth of our lives Maybe if we shared The healing could begin We could escape The electronic cage If we listened If we did
The dominant theme Of the modern movement Is just that To dominate To be the best No second place No room for losers Crush them Squeeze them dry That is the song Of our age We seem to sing it With joy
Sunny She was And the shadows she cast were long We long for her Now the winter is here And the long long night descends Bright was her smile White and bright her smile Deep and black her skin And we wanted in From afar Memories of sun In the dusk
Nature Claws back its realm Over many ages Verdant fingers prying apart Even The strongest of our creations With persistence of growth Old and fertile Mother
Nature Claws back its realm Over many ages Verdant fingers prying apart Even The strongest of our creations With persistence of growth Old and fertile Mother
Bird on a branch Are you resting Are you watching The world below The people rushing here And there Along their crowded roads With all their forks and cul de sacs Fly on little bird Fly on
Oh For a restart button A ctrl-alt-del For some days Some situations Sometimes For life Must be the geek in me I want to switch it all off And back on again
Plainsong Rolling, chanting Granting the air a form Bestow shadow and light purpose Singing The crafting of ancient wisdom To bear us something new Brightly shining Lyric