1. |
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Some of my otherwise brilliant and productive friends
Like scoundrels and their flags take final refuge in
Character assassinations;
They ignore the issue and deny the relation between
Our consumption and brutality
So you can go ahead and roll your eyes and marginalize me
Play on my insecurities
And you can feign ignorance
But you’re not stupid, you’re just selfish
And you’re a slave to your impulse
And I kinda thought we all shared common threads
In that we gravitated here to challenge the conventions we’ve been fed
By cultures that treat creatures like machines
And if you buy that shit then how long till it’s me
Who serves as your commodity?
Through , institutionalized violence and oppression of workers
And women raped by sexism
Do you still insist on feigning indignance to reason?
To collective self-interest?
I’ll call you on your shit, please call me on mine
Then we can grow together and make this shit-hole planet better in time
Consider someone else…
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2. |
Meat is Still Murder
01:31
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...stop consuming animals
I speak outside what is recognized as the border between “reason” and “insanity”
But I consider it a measure of my humanity
To be written off by the living graves of a billion murdered lives
And I’m not ashamed of my
Recurring dreams about me and a gun and a different species
Of carnage strewn about the stockyards, the factories and farms
Still I know as well as anyone that it does less good than harm
To be this honest with a conscience eased by lies
But you cannot deny that
Meat is still murder
Dairy is still rape
And I’m still as stupid as anyone, but I know my mistakes
I have recognized one form of oppression
Now I recognize the rest
And life’s too short to make others' shorter
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3. |
Less Talk, More Rock
01:39
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I'd like to actively encourage the toughest man
To dance as hard as he can to this
My song, and bring your stupid friends along
We wrote this song 'cause it's fucking boring
To keep spelling out the words that you keep ignoring
And your macho shit won't phase me now
It just makes us laugh, we got your cash, court-jester take a bow
Because did you know that when I was nine
I tried to fuck a friend of mine?
He was eight, then I turned ten
Fourteen years later it happened again
With another friend
This time with me on the receiving end
All the fists in the world can't save you now
'Cause if you dance to this, you drink to me
And my sexuality
With your hands down my pants by transitive property
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4. |
Anchorless
01:42
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They called here to tell me that you're finally dying
Through a veil of childish cries
Southern Manitoba prairie's pulling at the
Pant leg of your bad disguise
So why were you so anchorless?
A boat abandoned in some backyard
Anchorless
In the small town that you lived and died in
I've got an armchair from your family home
Got your P.G. Wodehouse novels and your telephone
I've got your plates and stainless steel
Got that way of never saying what you really feel
So anchorless
A boat abandoned in some backyard
Anchorless
In the small town that you lived and died in
I don't want to live and die here
I don't want to live and die here
Where we're anchorless
A boat abandoned in some backyard
Anchorless
In the small towns that we live and die in
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5. |
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Our cities seem to function quite the same
Sweeping ghettos under one big rug makes them easy to contain
So the upper-middle class can sleep
And convince themselves that trickle-down will solve this poverty
Murderers walk our streets
Their weapons are their pens, desks, policies
And P.R. campaigns fed by the spoils of war
Against the "lazy, shiftless" populations of the poor
This system cannot be reformed
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6. |
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(The opinions expressed in the following message are those of the Shell Petroleum Company, and in no way misrepresent the business interests of the corporate-owned media in which it originally appeared)
People have the right to the truth
Unvarnished. Even uncomfortable
But never subjugated to a cause, however noble or well-meaning
They have the right to clear thinking
Slogans, boycotts and protests don't offer answers…
It has been suggested that Shell should pull out of developing nations altogether
The oil would certainly continue flowing
The business would continue operating
The vast majority of the employees would remain in place
but the sound and ethical business practices synonymous with Shell,
the environmental investment
and the tens of millions of dollars spent on community programs would all be lost
Again, it's the people of developing nations that you would hurt.
It's easy enough to sit in your comfortable homes in the West
calling for sanctions and boycotts against a developing country
But you have to be sure that knee-jerk reactions won't do more harm than good
Some campaigning groups say that we should intervene in the political process in developing nations
But even if we could, we must never do so
Politics is the business of governments and politicians
The world where companies use their economic influence to prop up or bring down governments
Would be a frightening and bleak one indeed
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7. |
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Publicly subsidized! Privately profitable!"
The anthem of the upper-tier, puppeteer untouchable
Focus a moment, nod in approval, bury our heads
In the bar-codes of these neo-Colonials
Our former nemesis, the romance of a nation-state
Now plays fundraiser for a new brand of power-concentrate
Try again but now we're confused, "What is class war?
Is this class war?" Yes, this is class war
And I'm just a kid
I can't believe I have to worry about this type of shit
What a stupid world!
And it's beautiful, no regard for principle
What a stupid world!
Born, hired, disposed
Where that job lands, everybody knows
You can tell by the smile on the CEO
Environmental restraints are about to go
You can bet laws will be set
To ensure the benefit
Of unrestricted labor laws
Kept in place by displaced government death squads
They own us, produce us, consume us
Can you fucking believe?
What a stupid world
Fuck this bullshit display of class loyalties
The media and our leaders wrap it up in a flag, shit-rag, hooray
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8. |
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At Harold Edward’s Elementary
you pay respect to Our God
Our Flag
Our Military.
In grade 3 I had a written composition
about the global threat of communism.
And I was the luckiest 8-year old McCarthyist of 1979
I spent spring break on the flight line
of a base in the Carolinas
the U.S. version of my dad had signed us in.
And 12 years later, the Gatling I’d touched
that was strapped to the nose of a U.S. A-10,
separated flesh from bone and honed its’ skills
on “lesser humans”.
And thus confirmed the suspicions earned
in the 7 years preceding about the lies I was told
and if the truth be known,
I’m probably better off believing
But how could they do this to me?
Born head first and brought up ankle deep.
And maybe you’re a lot like me
identified for 14 years without a choice.
Terrified the morning you woke up and realized
that if and when you jump ship,
you either swim for shore or drown.
Don’t let the fuckers drag you down.
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9. |
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Why don't we all strap bombs to our chests?
And ride our bikes to the next G7 picnic
Seems easier with every clock tick
But whose will would that represent?
Mine, the rank and file, or better yet
the government?
But I don't want to catalyze, synthesize
The second final solution
Don't want to be the Steve Smith of the revolution
Here's the analogy, we're the Oilers
The World Bank, the Flames
Two minutes remain in the seventh game
Of the best of 7 series
Jesus saves, Gretzky scores
The workers slave, the rich get more
One wrong move, we risk the cup
Play the man, not the puck
Why don't we plant a mechanic virus
And erase the memory
Of the machines that maintain this capitalist dynasty?
And yes, I recognize the irony
The system I oppose affords me the luxury of biting the hand that feeds
That's exactly why privileged fucks like me should feel obliged to whine and kick and scream
Until everyone has everything they need
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10. |
Gifts
02:27
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Wake up, coughing, tired, with my face in my hands
staring at the window as the sunlight demands (action)
All the energy it takes to close these bedroom blinds.
Wrote this selfish sadness on a bathroom wall,
spent half the span of some lost culture’s rise and fall,
but I’m as clueless as a drooling four year old.
Still hoping I might find the capacity to let you know I know you’re lonely.
So here’s the last call for regrets, a final slow dance through
the days that we all hold on to.
Here’s the promises I’ve made, tied too tight to undo.
An unwrapped gift from me to you.
All the slightly insane on the 18 North Main,
reaching for a small-town downtown, night rain
nothing I could say could be worth saying anyway today.
Like “Hey, whatever happened to what’s that guys’ name?”
we get a little older and it looks the same: askance
Excuse my failing sense of humour.
Still hoping I might find the capacity to let you know that we’re still lonely.
So here’s the last call for regrets, a final slow dance through
the days that we all hold on to.
Here’s the promises I’ve made;
a razor blade and this broken piece of chain.
A history left to rust out in the rain.
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11. |
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Swastikas and Klan-robes.
Sexist, racist, homophobes.
Aryan-Nations and Hammerskins:
you can wear my nuts on your nazi chins!
God, I love a man in uniform!
What exactly are the great historical accomplishments of “your” race that make you proud to be white?
Capitalism? Slavery?
Genocide? Sitcoms?
Guns? War?
Pollution? Addiction?
NAFTA? Thigh-Master?
This is your fucking white-history, my “friend”.
So why don’t we start making a history worth being proud of
and stat fighting the real fucking enemy:
the white male capitalist supremacist.
Swastikas and Klan-robes.
Sexist, racist, homophobes.
This one’s for the “Master Race”:
my brown-power ass in your white-power face!
Kill them all and let a Norse God sort ’em out!
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12. |
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All rights to these songs and this album belongs to Propagandhi and Fat Wreck Chords. Here's hoping Fat Mike doesn't send me a cease and desist!
|
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13. |
State Lottery
02:05
|
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Does it seem strange to you?
The confetti. The balloons.
The mile-wide grins
and the victory dance to welcome in the heir
to a state of (utter and complete) disrepair?
Because it sure seems strange to me
they’re acting like they won the (fucking) lottery!
Shouldn’t they feel terror at the task that lies ahead
to feed and house the people that this system’s left for dead.
And could I have hit the nail much harder on the head?
It’s profits before lives.
They are motivated by greed.
First they taught us to depend on their nation-states to mend
our tired minds, our broken bones, our bleeding limbs.
But now they’ve sold off all the splints
and contracted out the tourniquets
and if we jump through hoops
then we might just survive.
Is this what we deserve?
To scrub the palace floors?
To fight amongst ourselves?
As we scramble for (the) crumbs (they) spit out
frothing at the mouth about the scapegoats
they’ve chosen for us.
With every racist pointed finger
I can hear the goose-steps getting closer.
They no longer represent us
so is it not our obligation to confront this tyranny?
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14. |
Refusing To Be a Man
02:32
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I’m not going to try to tell you that I’m different from all the rest.
I’ve been subject to the same de-structure of desire
and I’ve felt the same effects
I’m a hetero-sexist tragedy.
And potential rapists all are we.
But don’t tell me this is natural.
This is nurturing.
There’s a difference between sexism and sexuality.
I had different desires prior to my role-remodelling.
At six years of age you don’t challenge their claims.
You become the same
or withdraw from the game and hang your head in shame.
I think that’s exactly what I did.
I tried to sever the connections
between me and them.
I fought against their
further attempts to convince a kid that birthright can bestow
the power to yield the subordination of women
and do you know what patricentricity means?
I found out just a couple of days/months/years/minutes ago.
It means male values uber alles and hey! Whaddaya know…
sex has been distorted and vilified.
I’m afraid of my attraction to body types.
If everything desired is objectified
then maybe eroticism needs to be redefined.
I refuse to be a “man.”
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the Ghostwrite recommends:
Home Recordings of New Jams!!
by Endless Mike and the Beagle Club
Best DIY songwriter this side of the universe :) Mike is also in Ghostwrite band. He's the best organ player this side of the universe :)
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Best hardcore band this side of the universe :) Did some epic cross-county acoustic shows with Shawna and Brooks a pile of years ago. That was the best, too.
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Frank and Jody are in Ghostwrite band. They're the fucking best dudes this side of the universe:)
go to albumIf you like the Ghostwrite, you may also like:
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The second EP from Northern Irish singer-songwriter Bea Stewart runs from gentle folk to pillowy pop ballads, all perfectly executed.
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