Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song A Gospel, artist - The Style Council. Album song Classic Album Selection, in the genre Поп
Date of issue: 31.12.2012
Record label: Polydor Ltd. (UK)
Song language: English
A Gospel |
Handed down from fathers to sons |
Was the hatred of weakness and the love of guns |
A talk of peace but not in our time |
To save our souls and stop the crime |
Onwards and upwards but going nowhere |
So how many now truthfully swear |
That they do no evil, see no wrong |
The ad-mass agents, the writers of song |
The bankers, the poets, the modern day seers |
Clouding an issue that was never quite clear |
Sent through the ages of boy to man |
The living testament of making a stand |
Killing the wicked then raising the dead |
Eating propaganda and shit spoon fed |
Grasping for wisdom, but thick all the same |
So how many innocents now can claim |
That they play with fire and get burnt |
And through the same mistakes never get learnt |
Hoping for a time it will fall to place |
Faith shall show as our saving grace |
Handed down from God with love |
Was the whole wide world and some above |
But not content to share the land |
Greed was shown the winning hand |
And those whose greed was the strongest of all |
Took upon themselves to lead the call |
That some must work while other rest |
Without the question of what is best |
The leaders, the losers and the kings |
Pass the rifle butt that tyranny brings |
Passed on over to the chosen few |
Was the promise of freedom with a breadline queue |
Ghetto’s, gateaux and eating it too |
Forcing it all down with a cola brew |
The first amendment and the hunt for reds |
A conscious contradiction with something said |
That they see no evil with eyes shut tight |
A cocaine culture that offers no fight |
Dragged from birth, drugged to death |
The common excuse is just being yourself |
Hand us down before it’s too late |
The strength and wisdom to change our state |
Governed by evil and all it will bring |
I can’t wait for the day they do the lamppost swing |
And no mercy should they be shown |
For you cannot reason with the devil’s own |
They say, they hear no evil, hands clasped tight |
To shut out the victims' screams of ol' Uncle Sam fights |
He sweats and he strains as his boney frame comes |
Into the womb of an innocent one |