Leftover Crack

“Born to Die” by Leftover Crack.

Words and music by Leftover Crack. © 1999-2002, Hellcat Records.
Thanks to “punkyjunky” for the suggestion and information.

Born to die and you get to sit and watch yer t.v. set
believe the lies before yer eyes credit cards &apple pies
50 stars to blind yer eyes 13 stripes to hypnotize
free thought is gone you’ll never see yer just a pawn
you’ll die tomorrow but today yer empty dreams just fade away
evaporate, dissolve to hate while you survive and wait
until a lifeless fate yer stupid lives just piddle on
you slave fer others and then your gone i just can’t escape the lying
the moment we are born we’re dying and it’s such an ugly sight we have no rights
we have no future
no reasons why

just born to die yer dumb self can’t appreciate the freedom in my thought
the weak sense of autonomy when i’m drinking in C-squat
that empty void was never filled but the dreams of others
you helped kill you’ll justify, will linger on
but don’t ya know that dreams all die the day your born * we have no god’s
there’s only ignorant bliss
no reasons why

we’re born to die gone to bed, god is dead
lies &truth are in my head
your history, economy, society
it isn’t me, it’s all on you
reality, it’s what ya do
it’s what ya make the truth in lies
the freedom dies, the mind it numbs, the spirit breaks
with all our rights it kills our future
our reasons why

we’re born to die
just born to die

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Atheist Anthem” by Leftover Crack.

Words and music by Leftover Crack. © 1999-2002, Hellcat Records.
Thanks to “punkyjunky” for the suggestion and information.

From high up on yer crucifix
You preach about my triple 6
You spit about my this and that
And yank away yer welcome mat
With a coupon jesus christ will save
So don’t you christians misbehave
‘cuz santa makes the list himself
And he’s rotting on the warehouse shelf

And all the boys in the straight-edge scene
are in the basement huffing gasoline
Dead, dead, dead, dead
Yer god is dead to me!
And when the laws of God just make ya pissed
You better become an atheist
Dead, dead, dead, dead
Yer god is dead to me!

When the greed of man is not appeased
All will rot sick and diseased
Once again the fallen towers
The Tortured death of every hour
And at the toll of the final bell
You lead the righteous down to hell
When all the world is dead by dawn
All I ask is bring me along!

Nuclear Apox spells your doom
like the t.v. in yer living room
each bomb kills a million dead
it melts your skin and implodes yer head
And now you get yer judgement day
You think you’ll float up then away
But yer guilty just like everyone
You turn to ash when the burning’s done

There’s a hunger within you
a tapeworm deep inside
or maybe it’s just cancer
the doctors can’t decide
but yer stomach keeps on growing
as yer body wastes away
and yer getting ill &weaker
every single fucking day

we are alone
we are alone

Jethro Tull

“Wind-Up” by Jethro Tull.

Words and music by Jethro Tull. © 1971 Chrysallis Records.
Thanks to P. Hoffman for the song suggestion.

When I was young and they packed me off to school
and taught me how not to play the game,
I didn’t mind if they groomed me for success,
or if they said that I was a fool.
So I left there in the morning
with their God tucked underneath my arm —
their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.
So I asked this God a question
and by way of firm reply,
He said — I’m not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):
before I’m through I’d like to say my prayers —
I don’t believe you:
you had the whole damn thing all wrong —
He’s not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
Well you can excommunicate me on my way to Sunday school
and have all the bishops harmonize these lines —
how do you dare tell me that I’m my Father’s son
when that was just an accident of Birth.
I’d rather look around me — compose a better song
`cos that’s the honest measure of my worth.
In your pomp and all your glory you’re a poorer man than me,
as you lick the boots of death born out of fear.
I don’t believe you:
you had the whole damn thing all wrong —
He’s not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays

Jackson Browne

“The Rebel Jesus” by Jackson Browne.

Words and music by Jackson Browne. © 1995, Elektra Entertainment Group.

The streets are filled with laughter and light
And the music of the season
And the merchants’ windows are all bright
With the faces of the children
And the families hurrying to their homes
As the sky darkens and freezes
Will be gathering around their hearths and tables
Giving thanks for God’s graces
And the birth of the rebel Jesus

They call him by the “Prince Of Peace”
And they call him by “The Saviour”
And they pray to him upon the sea
And in every bold endeavor
And they fill his churches with their pride and gold
As their faith in him increases
But they’ve turned the nature that I worship in
From a temple to a robber’s den
In the words of the rebel Jesus

We guard our world with locks and guns
And we guard our fine possessions
And once a year when Christmas comes
We give to our relations
And perhaps we give a little to the poor
If the generosity should seize us
But if anyone of us should interfere
In the business of why there are poor
They get the same as the rebel Jesus

But pardon me if I have seemed
To take the tone of judgement
For I’ve no wish to come between
This day and your enjoyment
In a life of hardship and of earthly toil
There’s a need for anything that frees us
So I bid you pleasure and I bid you cheer
From a heathen and a pagan
On the side of the rebel Jesus

Frozen Ghost

“Beware The Masque” by Frozen Ghost.

Words and music by Arnold Lanni. © 1987 I’m On The Money Music/Don Valley Music, BMI.

There’s an answer and it’s hidden well
in the consciousness of all who dwell.
In another world, another space
from the ones who wear a masque to hide their face.
And the blind will lead the blind and
all those too scared to see.

I… I am afraid beware the masque
and the truth that it conceals.

I… I am afraid beware the masque
and the answer it might reveal.

There’s an answer and it wears a masque
to the questions we’re too afraid to ask
’cause the answer curses all who seek
to uncover its intangible mystique.

And the blind will lead the blind and all
who seek with their hearts.

And the blind will lead the blind and all
those too scared to see.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Should I See” by Frozen Ghost.

Words and music by Arnold Lanni. © 1987 I’m On The Money Music/Don Valley Music, BMI.

Cover my eyes and ears,
‘Til it all disappears.
How can you judge for me
What I should hear and see?

You take away freedom of choice.
Take away the right to voice.
My beliefs and all my views,
You take away my right to choose.

Show me what should I see.
Make my mind up for me.
Show my what should I see.
What should I see?

How can you censor my thought?
What is right what is not?
How is it that you decide,
What I should feel inside?

Quoting God as you discuss,
What is right or wrong for us.
You inundate us wiht your views.
You take away my right to choose.

You take away freedom of choice.
You take away my right to voice.
My beliefs and all my views.
You take away my right to choose.

Show me what should I see.
Make my mind up for me.
Show my what should I see.
What should I see?

Frank Zappa

“Meek Shall Inherit Nothing, The” by Frank Zappa.

Words and music by Frank Zappa. © 1995, Zappa Records.
Thanks to soave for the recommendation and information.

Some take the bible
For what it’s worth
When it says that the meek
Shall inherit the Earth
Well, I heard that some sheik
Has bought New Jersey last week
‘N you suckers ain’t gettin’ nothin’

Is Hare Rama really wrong
If you wander around
With a napkin on
With a bell on a stick
An’ your hair is all gone . . .
(The geek shall inherit nothin’)

You say yer life’s a bum deal
‘N yer up against the wall . . .
Well, people, you ain’t even got no kinda
Deal at all
‘Cause what they do
In Washington
They just takes care of NUMBER ONE
An’ NUMBER ONE ain’t YOU

You ain’t even NUMBER TWO
Those Jesus Freaks
Well, they’re friendly but
The shit they believe
Has got their minds all shut
An’ they don’t even care
When the church takes a cut
Ain’t it bleak when you got so much nothin’

(So whaddya do? Hey!)

Eat that pork
Eat that ham
Laugh till ya choke
On Billy Graham
Moses, Aaron ‘n Abraham . . .
They’re all a waste of time
‘N it’s your ass that’s on the line
(IT’S YOUR ASS THAT’S ON THE LINE)

Do what you wanna
Do what you will
Just don’t mess up
Your neighbor’s thrill
‘N when you pay the bill
Kindly leave a little tip
And help the next poor sucker
On his one way trip . . .
SOME TAKE THE BI-BLE BULL BULL

(Aw, gimme a half a dozen for the hotel room!)