har di har har

Agus a-nis a chairdean daintean cho uabhasach gun cuir iad troimh-cheile sibh, cho oillteill is grabhail a tha iad. Agus chan eil mi air a bhith deanamh moran, direach eisdeach ri comhlain fasanta, agus tarraing as na Naiseantaich air foram nan ainn-riaghailteach.

Co-dhiu

The State is my perversion
The warp in the thread of my mind
As it rings the new oppression
The screen goes blank in behind
The distraction of sponsored banality
The cop shows will turn you to dust
As fascists sharpen the polity
That will slice you, they do as they must
There is no life in the trees no more
They've been burned as they sold all their sap
And the birds sing pop-songs before
The dogs that pollute as they crap
No way out you think to yourself
As you watch the hedges in fear
But death is better than health
It's just much too frequent, too near
To the heart that you strove to protect
As you grew and abandoned all ties
In favour of a sporting elect
Who bludgeon as normal, all lies
Are not enough to save it
From conscience, your mind and all thought
The snarling faces daubed in shit
Give up as they do what they ought
To protect it, the essence, the flower
The twisted concrete of the shrine
Held the secrets of capital and temporal power
That were always with us in decline

Desperation time is counted
Not in minutes but in cuts
A grim reaping of the hilarity
Of sensuousness and other sluts
A map of poor bewilderment
A sundial for the dead
The scars I bear upon my arms
And the burn-marks on my head
To watching eyes these marks seem strange
What language is this hieroglyph
The tongue of paternal consternation
As he watches my footsteps and the cliff
To fall, to sink, to reach dispersal
And all to pass, to begin again
My doom approaches then recedes
Like a holy relic of my sin
And as my blood reaches my lips
I sing for sweet remembrance
Today as all days is my last
Or at least the last one in this skin
Tomorrow I'll be a casualty
Of circumstance and fathering

Patrons of the deep and fickle
Becalmed in a ship of fools
Time has come to an end
Along with their bloodlines, "ha ha said the ghouls"
As they ate the flesh of their incarcerators
They took it from the top
Maighstirean, ministirean, church and state
The sea soaks up the claret drops
Decapitation for the chairmen
Dismemberment for the cats
Who're fatter than their servants
Sleek, sweaty and disembowelled like rats
The deck is buried under their offal
The boat struggles under the load
A festering feast of revolution
Forms eddies in the road
And few will witness the revenge
Of victims of the liquid cosh
A problem justifiably whitewashed
But rejoiced in, at the end, oh gosh

Sin e bhuainne a nochd air radio nan ainn-riaghailteach, gus a-maireach bhuainn uile, oidhche mhath.