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Propagandhi

How To Clean Everything


Anti-Manifesto

Dance and laugh and play
Ignore the message we convey
It seems we're only here to entertain
A rebellion cut-to-fit
Well I refuse to be the soundtrack to it
We entertain, we're still knee-deep in shit

Well, there's something wrong inside
We've played it safe, enjoyed the ride
You won't like this but I've something to confide
We stand for something more
Than a faded sticker on a skateboard
Now we've rained on your parade and we're out the door
And I don't even care any fucking more

Witness this pair in accomplice
Witness this pair; lethargic, unconscious
No brows furrowed in question, complacent, completing their tasks
No questions asked

Consider this critic a cretin
Resting on laurels completely invented
Word acrobatics performed with both harness and net
I am so full of shit

But I will remain until this self-awareness fades
Until I defeat the purpose of this soapbox that you made
That you made

Hope, perseverance, a vision -- some doubt
Green ink, a 26 oz., a bad case of big-mouth
A sum of our parts and I've never laughed harder
A song in our hearts and I've never laughed harder
It don't really matter cuz nothing's ever felt as right as this
(By the way, I stole this riff)

Dance and laugh and play
Ignore the message we convey
It seems we're only here to entertain
A rebellion cut-to-fit
Well I refuse to be the soundtrack to it
We entertain, we're still knee-deep in shit

And we're so full of it


Head? Chest? Or Foot?

Three choices -- One bullet
One trigger -- Guess who gets to pull it
One leader -- A thousand slaves
For every throne there's a thousand graves

You're all the same, just part of their machine
Perpetuate their dream
They subsidize your nightclubs and they subsidize your malls
They herd and brand the masses within painted prison walls
Til your freedom of assembly becomes the missiles they create
Or just mass delusion dancing to this music that you fucking hate

But I'm not the same. I'm not part of your fucking machine.
I'll jeopardize your dream
I'd rather be imprisoned in a George Orwell-Ian world
Than your pacified society of happy boys and girls
I'd rather know my enemies and let you know the same
Whose windows to smash and whose tires to slash and where to point the fucking blame

One future -- Two choices
Oppose them or let them destroy us.


Hate, Myth, Muscle, Etiquette

Mark your point of failing
It begins where you concede
Hesitate -- Procrastinate -- Sedating
Configured to impede...
Your path.
You need a good kick in the ass

Take a step back and have a long hard look
Hold it to the light and read it like a book
Analyze the past and present to see what is to come
Now wrap your lips around the barrel of the gun

Mark my point of failing
It began where I gave in
Comfort -- Convenience -- Placating
Construed to suck me in...
To their trap
I need a good kick in the ass

As time passed-by I realized
We don't need rules to survive
Common sense, means to subsist
So from here on in I will resist

I've finally realized
I've found my way at last
It's finally evident
We all need a kick in the ass

The basis of change: educate!
Derived from discussion, not hate
Not myth, not muscle, not etiquette
Intellect, not "re-elect!"
Status symbols yield to respect
Between sex, species, environment
Yep!


Showdown

We spoke our minds too clearly.
Assumed fundamental rights
Were inherent not as pawns, but man.
I do not require a guage for freedom of speech
Cos I never asked to be a citizen.
I never have and never will pledge allegiance.

Waking up each morning with confusion in my eyes
The wind is biting through to wave "hello"
Seeing my reflection, an exterior of lies
I hope this shaky feeling doesn't show
As if I had to tell you there was little left to say
Stilted conversations colored blue
You were sitting down and you got up to walk away
I tried to stay but I was right behind you
I was right behind you. I was right behind you

Tension in the stair, I cannot bear so close to helpless as this song I sing. Inside me ring.
Final words are boring, never touch, I know you whispered something in my ear. I couldn't hear you.
Girls with the greenest eyes
The first time you have kissed
Our quiet softest sighs
A song for all of those who shot and missed

Welcomed to this world, imputed identity, born, tagged, tattooed, pacified
Generously bestowed my rights and priveleges replete with arbitrary values ascribed
There's nothing I can tell you, there's nothing I can say. Stunted conversation, censored thought
I'm completely free, at liberty, guaranteed unless of course you decide I'm not
But I'll not be resigned to, fall in line behind you

Tension in the air, I cannot bear so what the fuck am I accomplishing? Absolutely nothing
All these words are boring, it's time for action. but you've taught me to be a pawn. It won't last for long
Those who see through the lies
Are quickly gagged and bound
Ambition realized
Tear the whole fucking thing down

I was right behind you. I was right behind you


Ska Sucks

Ska sucks
Ska revival isn't cool you stupid fuck
The bands are only in it for the bucks
And if you don't believe me you're a schmuck
But the trend will die out with any luck
Yo oh. Yo oh oh oh.
Yo oh. oh oh oh oh Yeah!

Rudy, a message to you Rudy
A message to you Rudy
A message to you Rudy
Fuck you Rudy!

Ska sucks
Ska revival isn't cool you stupid fuck
The bands are only in it for the bucks
And if you don't believe me you're a schmuck
But the trend will die out with any luck
Oh yeah!


Middle Finger Response

Bowl of cherries in waskasoo creek
A sylvan way of life for those who see
None beyond a parkland mall
This landscape oasis now feigns city hall

And they call this peace
Not how it seems to me
Sugar-coated disease
Buckle at the knees

Your members of parliament
Lining their garments
With hides of the masses...
Heads stuck up their asses

Bald little soldiers,
Flags sewn to their shoulders
This insight spawns despair.

Why am I not part of this?
Pine cone wealth and cedar fence bliss?
All your novel themes
That keep you amused on your way to the canadian,
Flag-waving-aryan, motherfucking, cocksucking dream. Oh yeah!

Nobody cares about the state of affairs
You can turn blue in the face, but you cannot erase.
Oblivious to the obvious. I'm making perfect sense but I'm not getting through.
Progress overdue.

But don't expect to find me with a note left to be read.
Pistol in my hand and a bullet in my head.
This census indicates and this atlas has related
3 billion humans I haven't irritated.
I've got alot of work to do.
3 billion people, that's 3 billion snotty fuck you's
Fuck you, fuck all of you


Stick The Fucking Flag Up Your Goddam Ass, You Sonofabitch

My father told me, "Son, it's futile to resist
You can topple ideology but not the armies, they enlist."
I questioned the intentions of the boy scouts chanting war
"Well that's the sound of freedom, son" he said, free to say no more

"But wait a minute dad, did you actually say freedom?
Well, if you're dumb enough to vote,
You're fucking dumb enough to believe him.
Cos if this country is so goddamn free,
Then I can burn your fucking flag wherever I damn well please...
And I can stick it up your fucking ass!"

I carried their anthem, convinces it was mine
Rhymeless, unreasoned conjecture kept me in line
Then I stood back and wondered what the fuck had they done to me
Made accomplice to all that I'd promised I would never fucking be -- Never be

You carry their anthem convinces that it's yours
Invitation to honor -- Invitation to war
Bette Midler now assumes sainthood
Romanticize murder for moral
Tie a yellow ribbon round the oak tree my friend
And "Gee Wally, that's swell!"
Fuck the troops to hell!
Fuck the troops to hell!


Haillie Sellasse, Up Your Ass

You speak of Rastafari
But how can you justify belief
In a god that's left you behind?

You've simply filled the gap
Between the upper and lower class
And your faith merely keeps you in line, in line

An amalgamation of jewish scripture
And christian thought.
What will that get you? Not a fuck of a lot.
Take a look at your promised land.
Your deed is that gun in your hand.

Mt. Zion's a minefield.
The West Bank.
The Gaza Strip.
The West Bank.
The Gaza Strip.
The West Bank.
The Gaza Strip.
The West Bank.
The Gaza Strip.
Soon to be parking lots for american tourists
And fascist cops, yeah!

Fuck zionism
Fuck militarism
Fuck americanism
Fuck nationalism
Fuck religion
Fuck religion
Fuck religion
Fuck religion
Fuck religion
Fuck religion
Fuck religion
Fuck religion


Fuck Machine

It's something physical, conditioned reaction
And it's something physical, conditioned attraction
But have I finally escaped? Will my eyes no longer rape
The innocent woman, children, human beings?
Seeing the pain that it brings
Shallow, superficial decision
Real beauty obscured by my television

But this just in! Bikini film at ten
The female anchor smiles and shrugs it off, "Boys will be boys!"
Do you really wanna be our fucking toys?

And in again, condone it with a grin
Just sit back, idly chat, smile, prove you're just a fuck machine
Is that what you really wanna fucking be?

Conditioned reaction
Conditioned attraction
Conditioned suggestion
Conditioned rejection

And yet again, subjecting woman.
The female anchor's fists finally clinched,
"I'm not your fucking toy!"
And though I long to embrace,
I will not misplace my priorities:
Humor, opinion, a sense of compassion,
Creativity, and a distaste for fashion


This Might Be Satire

I wanna chew my bubble-gum with you
And I wanna walk you home from school
And I wanna carry your books to every class
And I wanna fuck you up the ass (not)

Girl, don't you know it's true
How much I love you
I wanna sing it 'cross the land
Oh! Won't you hold my hand?
Oh! Won't you hold my hand?
Oh! Won't you hold my hand?
Oh! Won't you hold my hand?
Hold my..

She tells me that she loves me,
Now I'm gonna tell her that I love her
She tells me that she loves me
Now I'm gonna try and fuck her
But where the hell are my priorities?
Left in the hands of the authorities
Yeah! Baby!


Who Will Help Me Bake This Bread?

I speak my mind. I question theirs.
It seems to me like no one really cares.
Peripherally blind -- Intellectually numb
Ignorance by choice? Or just plain fucking dumb? Yeah!

You're threatened by my mind. You want everything the same.
But my questions still remain.
You boycott your brain. You answer with fists
But my questions still persist

You can rearrange my face but you can't rearrange my mind
You can beat this shell about me, but you can't touch what's inside

So now who will help me bake this bread?
Who will be the first to speak and leave complacency for dead?
I've done all that I can on my own.
Yet stagnant minds persist to squeeze blood from this stone.
But I won't bleed for you
I have no need for you
Bleed for you
Death will be the day I conceed to you
You boycott your brain. You answer with fists
My questions still persist

You can rearrange my face but you can't rearrange my mind
You can beat this shell about me, but you can't touch what's inside
What's inside!


Fuck

I want you to want me
I need you to need me
I beging you to beg me
And I want you now

Yeah, I want you to want me
I need you to need me
I beging you to beg me
I'd love you to love me

???
Put on brand new shoes
I would dov anything if you say
That you love me, yeah
Ah Megan! (Kiss)

Did I, did I, did I see you crying
Did I, did I, did I see you crying
Sittin' all alone, I know you felt like dying
Did I, did I, did I see you crying

Yeah, I want you to want me
I need you to need me
I beging you to beg me
I'd love you to love me

???
Put on brand new shoes
I would do anything if you say
That you love me, yeah
MEGAN!

Did I, did I, did I see you crying
Did I, did I, did I see you crying
Sittin' all alone, I know you felt like dying
Did I, did I, did I see you crying

And I want you know, Megan!
She don't eat bacon!
She never kill a sweet little innocente piggy to get bacon
She's one of them vegan
She a sweet lovin', sweet talkin', lovable bacon
And that's all right, Fuck............................


Propagandhi.
Harrison Jord, aka George Dread, aka Gas -- drums & vocals.
Johnny John John Johnny John Shabadoo -- bass & vocals.
Pete -- vocals & guitars.

No need to go further!! It's just Tripod publicity!!
Pas besoin de descendre plus!! C'est juste de la publicité de Tripod!!