Patriot Child (2018)

PSYCHOTIC SNOWFLAKE ANTHEM

There is a sniper waiting for me, just across the street. His eyes are full of malice and his mouth full of deceit. His ammunition’s manufactured in a factory, deep beyond the Ural mountains, close to the White sea.

And there is a bomb rigged to explode on the window pane – push my lungs back through my spine, and end this killing game. For them I’m just a prey to hunt down, slaughter, and consume – or vanish in a few small seconds, leave a thin black plume.

And I’m here – still waiting.

There is a trigger on my cell phone that sets off a flare, that tells a bomber in the sky it’s time for my nightmare. My skin will melt like rubber clothing in the napalm heat, and leave the crows to feed on well done marrow bone and meat.

And there is a camera in my eye, recording all I do. It sends the info to a secret enemy HQ. They need no reason whatsoever – just a single call – to send me off to Faeryland where loonies go St Paul.

And I’m here – still waiting.

They sent me off to Shivering Islands just some time ago, to collect some magic items with a madness bow. I hailed the prince called Sheogorath, but he sent me back home. Unable to reload the game, I can’t retrieve my tome.

The sniper’s knocking on my door, disguised as my best friend. Wearing skin to block the sun, I cannot defend myself against their dirty tricks – I have to hide my soul deep inside one single brain cell, just to keep control.

And I’m here – still waiting. And I’m here – still waiting.

PETRODOLLAR WARS

Just a little ray of sunshine, shimmers through the cloudy sky. Just a little angel singing, sings so softly like a child – and you got that rhythm in your heart.

Just a little village down there, down below the deep green wood. Just a little river running, and the people that you would save if you could stop and press restart.

Do all that you never dreamed of doing. Caring is the issue, not the knowing.

Just a little farmer working, worries running cross his face. Just a little thought you’re sharing with yourself, cause there’s no place where you can share the pieces of your heart.

Just a little chopper roaring, machine guns rattling ‘tween the trees. Just a little soldier laughing – the people here cry iron tears, so they won’t blame you when you do your part.

Do all that you never dreamed of doing. Caring is the issue, not the knowing.

Just a little girl come running, screaming and you open fire. Just the little houses burning, smoke that rises to the sky – darkness deep as all that’s in your heart.

Just a little game is over, gun in hand and boots back on. Just a little memory fading into something you call gone. Maybe it was just a work of art?

Do all that you never dreamed of doing. Caring is the issue, not the knowing. Do all that you never dreamed of doing. Caring is the issue, not the knowing.

ENEMY OF THE MATRIX

I can see you, I can feel you, I can breathe you mortalkind. In the water, in the deep well, I still watch you mortalkind. I was hanging from the world tree, from the mighty Yggdrasil.

I was given, I was given all the knowledge of the runes. And I told you, I foretold you, there will come a day of woe – when the world ends, and the day breaks, and a woman and a man, will be walking, will be talking, and will try to understand – and I see life neverending, and I walk between the worlds.

There be many, called the elder, but you know my name and word. I can see you, I can feel you, I can breathe you mortalkind.

GENERATION IDENTITAIRE

You looked for Paradise in the ruins of Mogadishu, and in the riot and red flag waving, and the streets that filled with blood.

You looked for Paradise in the scriptures of the Marx, and in the riot and red flag waving, and the streets that filled with blood.

And we pay the price for your chasing of wind – we are generation identitaire.

You looked for Paradise in the bombs and genocide, and in the riot and red flag waving, and the streets that filled with blood.

And we pay the price for your chasing of wind – we are generation identitaire.

You looked for Paradise in oppression of free speech, and in the riot and red flag waving, and the streets that filled with blood.

And we pay the price for your chasing of wind – we are generation identitaire.

We look for common sense in a world destroyed by lies. We are the new river running – its water old and free.

But we pay the price for your chasing of wind – we are generation identitaire – we are generation identitaire – we are generation identitaire.

PATRIOT CHILD

Of course you’re angry, child – they beat you down every second you try to breathe, choke you with hypocrisy, treason and guilt, steal your time and life for you still have a soul, cover your eyes so you see what you’re told.

Of course you’re angry, child – they tell you be well mannered, when they’re so bad. They are full of bullshit, got halos instead. Everyone knows, they don’t care about you, they won’t let you live cause the moment they do:

You are gonna shut them up! You are gonna shut them up!

Of course you’re angry, child – they say you be ashamed when they are cowards and wrong. A slave collar shows you just where you belong. Patriot child, your voice is a crime – you won’t pretend that subjection is fine.

Of course you’re angry, child – they sell your every pound of flesh, for one glass of wine. They can beat you deaf, child, but never beat you blind. You will not give in to the powerful and rich: deep state, fake news, the pimp and the bitch.

You are gonna shut them up! You are gonna shut them up!

You took the pill at Charlottesville, but who did pay for Lefty’s guns at Mandalay? Yeah, who will pay?

Of course you’re angry, child – you pick up your guitar and go right out in the street, singing your guts out: ”retreat, hell retreat!” They try to kill you, we’ve seen this before, murderers calling their murders a chore, victims accused of oppressing the poor, innocent victims of their holy war.

You are gonna shut them up! You are gonna shut them up! You are gonna shut them up! You are gonna shut them up!