Patrick Jones - Guerilla Tapestry (with James Dean Bradfield) | Текст песни

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• Patrick Jones
• Guerilla Tapestry (with James Dean Bradfield)

We are not deceived by your words
we see through your promises
we sanctify your lies
we are the disaffected
the isolated wounds of subtle napalm;
Shopping doesn't make me happy
commercials cull my sensitivity
freedom is nothing without responsibility
capitalism as carrion mrs bottomley.
The rain drenched tarpaulines of market traders
are the epitomy of belief
clinging to our pennies entrance or exit
memory or dream
this hole in my throat this gap in the ink
this place without meaning
this stuttering eloquence of screaming;
Save, save us all
allow desolate
find a path unafraid to act hold life
stand stand oak tall
even the smallest body makes a shadow -
Haning out washing
the protest of discipline
tiny hands scraping solitudes clinging to moments creating
miracles from everyday routines
the dignity or ironing
the anxiety of mortgages
the the the
sentence of being but still still still the being
butterflies trapped in the frost
victory is acknowledging the fact that you have nog yet lost.

Caress me with your alienation
alienate me with your caress create me with your credit
pour me power through direct debit
feed me freedom
feed me freedom from selling shares
paint me a symbole and tell me I'm free;
we are
we are
The Guerilla Tapestry
the silence of insurance payments
council tax benefits
industrial tribunals
the penny pinchers the super savers
the lottery watchers
we are
the incoherent throats searching for sound
the peaceful protestor
the single mother
the social worker at the homeless shelter
We are the happy shoppers
the credit cravers
the sales offers
poundstretchers
the breaking fabric of modernity
stitched only by solitude
we are the temporary fragments of a conservative master plan;
unemployment statistics
family credit beggars
no collar coolies
part time slavery
sucking severances
praying for meaning
not this lipless screaming
this atrophic sunrise
not this pathetic attempt at remembrace -

In these motives that purify in these acts that dignify
in this tiny gesture of defiance
an articulation of a void
a vision versed in lament
this hate this hate
is born from Love;
We are the undying
the breath of chlorophyll over the concrete
the soul against the gold
we are loneliness burned iron fists fuelled by injustice
We are the denied
yet unified
we are the tapestry, the crackling cracks of modernity
dislocated desperations stitched together
by the disparate verses of out skin;
I write therefore we exist
I write therefore we exist
and from this page this scream
this no
from the supermarket to the dole
from the youth centre to the old people's home
the sound of the sound of
the alone to the alone
the sound the silence the sound
of the ability to resist;

And in this ink there is the blood of a thousand indians
and in this ink the eyes of a thousand miners
the struggle of my father
the sensitivity of my mother
and the hand of my baby;
and in this prison cell there is the sky sunlight
in these words the power they tried to deny us,
the stab of a killer
the tourniquet of a nurse
and in this ink is
one
is many
is you and I
and in this voice
the milk of a mother
against against against
their chains to smother
mother to man to woman to child
the guerilla tapestry
spread nationwide;

And in de division
there is a unity
in this encision
there is a sanctity
in this pale silent page
blisters a cacophony enraged
with the burn of generations following this bullet of emancipation
we are we are the threads we are we are
the severance the stitches we are we are
a no in search of a yes
we are we are the breaking
we are we are the making
the blind beginning to see
we are we are we are T