Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Final Conflict, artist - Conflict.
Date of issue: 30.11.1987
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Final Conflict |
Eight years of hard labour now seems suddenly to fade |
Away we stand defeated, at home the police invade |
Prosecutions hit an all time high, A.L.F. |
friends locked inside |
Our own they turn against us. |
Well you’ve got what you want, now shut you mouth |
Fuck you, fucking fuck off, can’t you see what you’re destroying? |
They sit back fucking creasing up as we squabble assisting all of them |
You are what you think and that’s nothing, can’t you see what we say is you? |
Scurrying around like angry ants, banging our heads on the same wall |
Stop; |
don’t think that we are very close to getting there — where? |
They give us tiny victories to keep us all content |
To trick us into false achievement, the realisation difference |
Look, everything we gain is what they let us have |
Abort the system all you like, but the board game’s titled 'power' |
And who’s got the board game in hand |
The story continues, big business thrives |
The world is endangered every day of our lives |
They build their arsenals of armies, tanks and guns |
Do you still consider life as simply being all fun? |
Next time you see protest, ask yourself why? |
People shout and scream, they want peace more than a dream |
We simply want to live in the way we choose |
One day there will be no rulers of the roost |
So you stand back with your ideals, your rightful personal opinions |
Taking what you want from me but don’t say I haven’t given |
I won’t be stuck on the Christmas tree; |
I won’t dictate what you should be |
Now I just dream of being free |
And tears fill my eyes when I think of what it could have been |
Keep at the battle although support may die |
Watch every move they make, but always ask why |
I’m now glad I stand your outcast; |
I know we saw it through the past |
And any move we made wasn’t judged by good results |
But by the stereotypes who made us their new cult |
We stepped across the lines the music biz neatly drew |
We heard the screams of «sell out shit» |
But didn’t have a clue |
Some sell their arse to the BBC; |
I’m so proud they don’t want me |
While they have their fantasies, their technicolour dreams |
Remember that reality always breaks through, proving life’s just what it seems |
There’s still the Government’s police force, complete with boots and gloves |
That puts a whole new meaning on the precious word love |
The boot still goes in in Ireland, treading on the hands |
Still misery and poverty, throughout the pleasant land |
Still the threat hangs above our heads known by many names |
That’s now nice and neatly packaged into harmless TV games |
So we’ll continue fighting |
Yes that’s right, we destroyed our own following |
Smashed the legs from the pedestal, amongst howling and hollowing |
Rose a movement standing so strong against all wrongs |
It’s a world where little changes but the importance of songs |
Has never been so great did it come too late? |
Some set out to destroy us perhaps they like the state |
Twelve years of Tory conditioning, police and state privilege |
Finally proved too much for those now broken and fucked |
But out of it came one important achievement, self-respect, dignity, |
the acknowledgement of trying |
There is no independence, and that’s how it’s going to stay |
Not many understand madness, no one understood Conflict |
Conflict is to clash, a battle |
The house that man built stills stands strong |
The Centro Iberico’s now defunct |
A nation of animal lovers coincide |
With the stupid bastards who help EMI |
Turning rebellion into money |
Its time to see who’s who |
But the serenade is dead |
This is not enough, the battle continues |
We increased the pressure from protest to resistance to the ungovernable force |
The Final Conflict. |
Our war of words |