Vodka Lullaby 1

 

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#1: The Great Revolt

 

 

 

Dastardly were the deeds of our fathers!

So arcane and so lacking of moral substance

They contrived, economically survived on the brutality of which our brothers were not deprived.

 

Tell me now, I vow, I wonder how despite the previous misconceptions,

And good intentions

Attempted abortion, yet were still conceived.

For this we are not reprieved…

A society basing itself on its own notoriety,

A society proclaiming material utopia,

Yet in all essence lacking the cornucopia on which the masses stay fed.

(Still) they might end up dead,

Instead…I analyze the growing profits, which line the rich man’s pockets,

And the bunker busting rockets,

Make us popular indeed.

In what holy book was that decreed?

No more dialectic…human nature equals greed?

 

I am climbing higher, but can’t seem to escape the fire,

As the pillars made of ethics start to fall,

If I give an inch or start to flinch and MAN will take it all.

 

For the MAN’s quite good at taking,

He’s been doing it for years,

 

And now he’s gaining power, by playing off your fears.

They know what playbacks scare you so they play in constant loop,

And reporters flock like vultures, just to try and get the scoop.

Everything, a false conception,

As they improvise a great deception,

Be wary of a man who asks for war…

And all these troops departing,

Any day now we’ll be starting,

Battle ships with cannons line the shore.

 

But what of urban ghettos, the prisons, and their lies

The rich are getting richer as the poor meet their demise.

I’d propose a revolution, but we’re a lacking a solution,

And Communism failed us in the past…

While the Anarchists scream mutual aid,

I’m sure we’ll end up starving oh too fast.

 

Sing one song. Into the night. 

We’re plotting revolution, my revolver shines in candlelight

And the clock upon the wall, means nothing at all,

We’re waiting for moment when we make the system fall.

 

AND in the back of the coffee shop,

Where the honky babble junky spreads his word.

His hair slicked back, hair brown not black, to all those that haven’t heard.

And next to him sits his partner, a man believed to be a clone,

His eyes glazed over, listens carefully, but he doesn’t drink alone.

 

They’ve been up for nearly 60 hours.

Fueled on Adderall and booze.

The tide is turning quickly. Quickly, quickly read the news.

 

On the radio, the broadcast lingers,

The fat man in the corner licks his fingers,

And the wax drips from the candles pausing time.

The streets outside a concrete jungle, and the flames of battle flicker

BURNING THROUGH the ash of urban grime.

 

While the leaders conversed

In the language of tactical insurrection,

The coffee shop offered slight protection,

Gunfire could be heard just right outside.

And with the buildings burning,

The rebels were quickly learning,

That all too many of their brothers that day died.

They recalled the night prior,

Before the city caught on fire,

Students dreaming of a brighter day.

Clad in grey uniform around a table, talking ‘bout the future, come what may.

The lieutenants began reporting, on the status of fight.

One might, despite all previous contraindications,

And resistance depictions, knew a losing battle at first sight.

 

We’re in need of ammunition, but not in a position

Treason is quite serious indeed.

And the RAT-TAT-TAT of rifles,

Echo in the night,

As we watch our wounded comrades slowly bleed.

The barricades it seems are holding,

The uprising is unfolding,

Dead and dying littered in the street.

And don’t be too surprised,

The Revolution’s televised,

‘Cause CNN wants you glued right to your seat.

 

Sing one song. Into the night. 

We’re plotting revolution, my revolver shines in candlelight

And the clock upon the wall, means nothing at all,

We’re waiting for moment when we make the system fall.

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