Originally posted by: glenn1
You all have no soul, no style, and your humanity=up for the highest bid, and I dont mean sole as in what you think is music while crushing brown skinned (or the poor or the lefts) skulls under.
At least those to whom you're directing this statement to don't seem to labor under your self-aggrandizing illusion that their beliefs somehow make them noble, interesting, a rebel, or anything other than pathetically and boringly ordinary. Instead you wear what you feel is a chic persona of living vicariously through the deeds of others, and wind up looking ridiculous like a child wearing his big brother's clothes. You'd be the first to claim phrases like "shoot, you'll only going to kill a man" but would be the last to risk actually taking a stand which would put you at personal risk. You fancy yourself
this guy, but are actually
him
You know what is funny, is that you have no clue who that man is in the picture. But you know, yes, someone who had their coutnry taken over by insane fascism would be a somewhat good representation. But, I am not crying or snieveling. The right may own the media and the government but the american people still rule in the end.
That gentlemen fought on against the right wing nazis even though the odds were against him and defeat of his homeland seemed total when that picture was taken, you can bomb us, you can bruise us...............
When they kick at your front door
How you gonna come?
With your hands on your head
Or on the trigger of your gun
When the law break in
How you gonna go?
Shot down on the pavement
Or waiting on death row
You can crush us
You can bruise us
But you'll have to answer to
Oh, the guns of Brixton
The money feels good
And your life you like it well
But surely your time will come
As in heaven, as in hell
You see, he feels like Ivan
Born under the Brixton sun
His game is called survivin'
At the end of the harder they come
You know it means no mercy
They caught him with a gun
No need for the Black Maria
Goodbye to the Brixton sun
You can crush us
You can bruise us
Yes, even shoot us
But oh-the guns of Brixton
When they kick at your front door
How you gonna come?
With your hands on your head
Or on the trigger of your gun
You can crush us
You can bruise us
Yes, even shoot us
But oh-the guns of Brixton
Shot down on the pavement
Waiting in death row
His game is called survivin'
As in heaven as in hell
You can crush us
You can bruise us
But you'll have to answer to
Oh, the guns of Brixton
But you will never stop the guns of brixton, the will of the people will always win over corprotism and fascism of the right.
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