
Date of issue: 28.09.2008
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Mud Island |
The year is 2013 |
Time we got this right |
We’ve tried all other avenues |
And now |
This is the one solution left |
So listen |
Comrades here |
And those at home |
Welcome to Mud Island |
Where clouds don’t clear |
And no one comes for asylum |
Where you can’t grow food without a horticulture license |
And licenses are only granted to corporate giants |
Not the Jolly Green |
They’re monsters of oil and iron |
Who shape government policy |
And own soil and sky |
And they also own the rights |
To the writer’s pens |
So no news can find a vent |
Without prior consent |
And that consent doesn’t come |
When the news is anti-government |
Or pro-Islam |
Or anti-capitalism |
Or about the fear that always hangs in the distance |
Or the fact that every other cousin’s languishing in prison |
Or the lack of a living wage |
That wages war on actually living |
The buses are silent |
We all face forward |
Like the drones in 1984 |
Afraid to talk in case we’re breaking laws |
We didn’t even know existed |
The terror agents on the corners |
Who can leave you broken wristed |
With interrogation methods |
Never less than vicious |
And detention without charge |
Is the quintessence of Englishness |
The quintessence of Englishness |
If we succumb to the river |
It will carry us off |
So raise one middle finger |
To the cameras watching |
Another to them acting |
In the manner of Gods |
They can kill us |
But they can’t switch humanity off |
It’s been this way |
Since the 2012 olympics |
When six thousand people died |
In six terrorist hits |
It was the perfect excuse |
To pull the noose on civil liberty |
Suddenly |
The streets thronged with the military |
New police with new powers |
A new face for the state |
And this threat that waits above us |
Like a guillotine |
A brand new prison camp |
The pride of the Ministry |
Where suspects are sent |
At the Prime Minister’s decree |
Guantanamo mark two |
Here at home in Glastonbury |
Approved by referendum |
Built very democratically |
And the key to the core |
Of the Government’s terror strategy |
Orange boiler suits |
Water board torture and shackled feet |
With capacity for more than a thousand dissidents |
Housed in mesh cages and force fed food |
'Til proven innocent |
While the rest of us eat, sleep, shit and do business |
As the advertisers sell us shampoos and conditioners |
But there are many who still refuse to give into this |
Struggle to uncover truth in news and statistics |
Who grow our own food |
And make our own kid’s syllabus' |
Who make our own decisions |
And won’t live as prisoners |
There are those of us who live and love |
And chat with our neighbors |
Who strip back the fear |
And products and shallow status |
And ads and wastage |
And suits and braces |
'Til we’re human beings |
Being human standing naked |
Say it |
Human beings |
Being human |
Standing Naked |
Being human |
Standing Naked |
If we succumb to the river |
It will carry us off |
Raise one middle finger |
To the cameras watching |
Another to them acting |
In the manner of Gods |
They can kill us |
But they can’t switch humanity off |
But it’s not enough to act free, stubborn, courageous |
We need to deal with the causes |
Of the struggles that face us |
We’ve looked deeper than the surface wounds |
And we’ve seen the whole system is a river of blood |
And it’s running in the veins of a rotted corpse |
And we can’t stop its course quick enough |
Cause it runs to the cups of the corporation and the state |
Two drunk men, holding each other up |
Feeding each others function |
Why? |
Cause what’s good for order is great for the capitalist |
And brands are the perfect opiate for the masses |
It works perfectly |
A marriage of mutual bond |
While the earth and the people are murdered |
And brutally wronged |
While now |
We vow to bring it down sector by sector |
Every symbol of oppression |
Every pillar of its architecture |
Banks that keep the wealth held by too few men |
Superstores that suck communities dry |
Cameras whirring and watching our every movement |
Prisons that create crime and dehumanize |
Arms manufacturers, security firms, media |
Car manufacturers, government departments |
Every symbol of our democratic servants turned «leaders» |
From the modified crops they’re growing in our back gardens |
To the firms that profit producing polluntants |
The list is here |
Read it and go to it |
We’ll be their public nuisance |
Their writing on the wall |
Our revolution |
Until the people dance to a new music |
And it means sacrifice |
And it might mean pain |
But there’s a duty calling on us |
To be people again |
No state is going to save us |
No progress without us |
We must realize and grow |
And manifest our own powers |
So I say it again |
The time is now |
Go to it |
'Til the people on the street |
Are dancing to their own music |
The time is now |
Go to it |
Until the people on the street |
Dance to their own music |
If we succumb to the river |
It will carry us off |
Raise one middle finger |
To the cameras watching |
Another to them acting |
In the manner of Gods |
They can kill us |
But they can’t switch humanity off |
Name | Year |
---|---|
Fried Rice ft. Aaron Nazrul | 2008 |
Louder | 2008 |
How It Is | 2008 |
Mine the Gap | 2008 |
Tongue N Groove | 2008 |
Second Cell | 2008 |
The Birth of Mud Sun | 2008 |
Social Contract 2.0 | 2008 |
First Cell | 2008 |
Third Cell | 2008 |
Welcome to Capitalism | 2008 |
Get Naked | 2008 |
Louder 2.0 | 2008 |
The Gangsta Way | 2008 |
Dispatches | 2008 |
The Fallout | 2008 |
Phone Call | 2008 |