The Medley Songtext
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Crisis they say
But it's not funny
When lives are squandered, we still pay the money
Welfare is cut, to foot the bill
So it ain't just the enemy, it's OAPs they kill
Do they care?
So they put you in the army, with a gun in your hand
Tell you to slaughter people, you just don't understand
So you throw away their gun, refuse to vent their hate
They call you a traitor, but that does not placate
But it's not funny
When lives are squandered, we still pay the money
Welfare is cut, to foot the bill
So it ain't just the enemy, it's OAPs they kill
Do they care?
So they put you in the army, with a gun in your hand
Tell you to slaughter people, you just don't understand
So you throw away their gun, refuse to vent their hate
They call you a traitor, but that does not placate
The bell tolls, the death knell calls, for who, for me
Well I've had enough of being pushed around
Screwed into the floor
Gonna pack my bags, gonna grab my coat
Run out the door
Just cos I am a pacifist don't mean I'll take abuse
I ain't no wooden puppet to be put to your own use
I'm a a pacifist
So you can stuff your cheap heroics
Oh, you can point the finger
And tell me who I am
Yes you can point the finger
Well I could give a damn
Don't think that I;m a punchbag
For you to push around and shove
You can stuff your arrogance
Right now, I've had enough
I'm a pacifist
I'm a passive fist Right
You can write "Punk's Not Dead" on your back
Perhaps it's it's the intelligence that you lack
Punk became a fashion like mod and ted
Reject these media-crazed movements and use your own fucking head
You don't have to wear the punk uniform
You don't have to join a fashion, you don't have to conform
Youth cults are a means by which media manipulates the youth
Punk started as a threat to the system, it exposed the truth
But now it's been corrupted and exploited by the press
What started as a good thing is now a fucking mess
Turn one tribe against another, your label could be your fate
We're all in the palm of the system's hand
as long as we align ourselves with some fucking stupid movement that,
in the end, will sell out to the businessmen with their Rolls Royces, cigars and cash
Ready to latch on to the latest craze in a cheque-book waving dash
It's these bastards that fucked up punk from the start
When the next fashion comes along you can bet they'll play their part
In using it to fill their pockets, filling it up with shit
Ready to develop another stereotype, another identikit
Wear the clothes the rip-off merchants sell to you
All movements are the same, the leaders use them to divide and rule
So when the next trend comes along will you join the ranks
And be another mindless moron along with all the other wanks?
Well I've had enough of being pushed around
Screwed into the floor
Gonna pack my bags, gonna grab my coat
Run out the door
Just cos I am a pacifist don't mean I'll take abuse
I ain't no wooden puppet to be put to your own use
I'm a a pacifist
So you can stuff your cheap heroics
Oh, you can point the finger
And tell me who I am
Yes you can point the finger
Well I could give a damn
Don't think that I;m a punchbag
For you to push around and shove
You can stuff your arrogance
Right now, I've had enough
I'm a pacifist
I'm a passive fist Right
You can write "Punk's Not Dead" on your back
Perhaps it's it's the intelligence that you lack
Punk became a fashion like mod and ted
Reject these media-crazed movements and use your own fucking head
You don't have to wear the punk uniform
You don't have to join a fashion, you don't have to conform
Youth cults are a means by which media manipulates the youth
Punk started as a threat to the system, it exposed the truth
But now it's been corrupted and exploited by the press
What started as a good thing is now a fucking mess
Turn one tribe against another, your label could be your fate
We're all in the palm of the system's hand
as long as we align ourselves with some fucking stupid movement that,
in the end, will sell out to the businessmen with their Rolls Royces, cigars and cash
Ready to latch on to the latest craze in a cheque-book waving dash
It's these bastards that fucked up punk from the start
When the next fashion comes along you can bet they'll play their part
In using it to fill their pockets, filling it up with shit
Ready to develop another stereotype, another identikit
Wear the clothes the rip-off merchants sell to you
All movements are the same, the leaders use them to divide and rule
So when the next trend comes along will you join the ranks
And be another mindless moron along with all the other wanks?
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