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PROTEST THE HERO LYRICS
"A Calculated Use of Sound" (EP EP)
1. Red Stars Over the Battle of the Cowshed
2. An Apathetic New World
3. These Colours Don't Run
4. Soft Targets Dig Softer Graves
5. Fear and Loathing in Laramie
6. Led Astary
7. I am Dmitri Karamazov and the World is My Father
1. Red Stars Over the Battle of the Cowshed
I declare a war
a fight for freedom against any system that's built
to consume our power and maintained to divide our energy.
A system where an honest person can sweat for hours
and then play slave to the man in the television tower.
A syetem where private ownership erases public healthcare
because dollars are worth more than people; dollars are worth more than sense.
it's a one-way street through a faceless crowd;
barcodes and backlit billboards show us, guide us,
teach us how to earn our rank, divide the rich and poor,
pit us against ourselves, compiling and burning corpes of class war.
Yes, I want to topple this system held in place by financial greed
where wealth is made through ownership and social heirarchy.
Dollars are worth more than a worker in need,
more than John and Jane Doe with a family to feed.
we are the workers, the majority, and this system fears solidarity.
So I declare a war on everything they're for
it's a one-way street through a faceless crowd;
barcodes and backlit billboards show us, guide us,
teach us how to earn our rank, divide the rich and poor,
pit us against ourselves, compiling and burning corpes of class war.
Just someone to topple the system.
I want to topple the system
Just someone to topple the system.
2. An Apathetic New World
Tonight I sat alone on the steps and stared
into the blank sky; stars cloaked by smog, the poison of our own.
And as the bitter air bit down I held my breath
and thought of all the others on their backs.
How do you organize resistance against something that's not even there (but still killing you)?
Dirt covered fists screaming indignantly,
mitigate to out turned palms pleading admittedly.
Raping people of their hope and the sky of all its stars.
They're dying at your feet but 'who cares who they are.' (right?)
There's no place like home.
"It's like filling an empty glass from an empty bottle."
and it's stricken by rigor mortis with your hand on the throttle.
Grasping at a chance through a wall of austerity
and a fence of police enforced by democratic vulgarity.
Two percent controlling the power;
controlling you, controlling me, controling the borders of democracy.
So it's you, and it's me and we're up against a fence,
control or be controlled by only two percent.
So it's you, and it's me and we're up against a fence,
control or be controlled, because only we can set us free.
3. These Colours Don't Run
(they do however slaughter innocent millions world wide every year)
It’s so egregious so conspicuously wrong
Tens of thousands of people vilified and killed by the means of western hypocrisy.
The double standard of the ways of Mao Ze Dong,
(killing for crimes against country).
1998 the Clinton administration,
bombing the plant of Al – Shifa was merely “retaliation.”
This move would prove detrimental to so many lives, and day by day the death toll is forced to rise.
Bombings won’t justify bombings, death will not justify death.
Death its self justifies nothing, Nothing will come of it.
Terrorism as defined by official U.S. documents is “the calculated use of violence or threat of violence,
to attain goals that are political, religious, or ideological instate.”
A labeled rouge state, Look at your self.
The Rockets red glare (Red like the blood you have spilled),
The bombs bursting in air,
(anonymous graves you have filled,)
In the name of humanitarian intervention will not cease all though by definition, they’re a terrorist act.
4. Soft Targets Dig Softer Graves
Now's the time to take all your rage and your frustration and focus it in a positive way.
It's time to fight but only for the democracy that has been ripped from beneath our feet.
Is it ridiculous to believe that killing the
innocent is murder?
but it is to believe that nothing can be done.
These people are not machines,
they're living they're breathing they're dying they're human beings
who cry "please don't kill me" in the same trembling frequency.
Propaganda screams "have you forgotten?"
in six minute intervals so loud that you can't escape them,
but now I'll ask have you forgotten?
about the young men in boxes, about the choking in the field,
about a treaty (of a palace in the swamp) that was set to end it all?
It's safe to say I'll never forget the day i first heard your voice,
laced with undertones of hate and vengeance.
Now is the time.
I suppose all that matters is dulce et decorum est pro patria mori,
or at least it still acts as an effective facade to mask the burning bush's political alternative agenda.
How sweet and fitting is it to die for one man's greed?
5. Fear and Loathing in Laramie
Compassion is shit. Soft-spoken words and a look of concern.
The fire is lit. Emotion will never extinguish these flames that inaction has built.
What makes it burn? A nation so straight that deviation’s a crime.
When will we learn that sexuality is not a punishable offense?
On a cold October night, a gentle soul was crucified
and what remains of his blood still stains our idle hands that soft-spoken words won’t justify.
Culprits are we.
Let’s talk about rights. Let’s talk about sexual orientation.
Let’s talk about you and an entire homophobic nation.
Will you follow me down? Can we not separate ourselves from such hate?
Let’s sever the head of the beast with the crown, let’s no longer participate.
Will you follow me down? Why won’t anyone stand up?
6. Led Astary
So much time slipped away as if it meant nothing at all -
I remember that night, we didn't know it would be our last.
But now as I look back, an awkward tension hung in the air.
Now everything is different. I don't know you anymore,
and as we pass in the hall I feel myself weeping inside:
knowing that the friendship that there once was has withered
to but one glowing ember of a fire that burned so brightly.
And I swear to you the times are changing and I swear that you are too.
I swear to you that I'm no different, this I swear to you.
I think you're well aware, that this path we've taken is all but fair.
With everyday we're led astray and slowly it just slipped away.
I am now accompanied by hollowed memories, all of them faded to black and grey.
These thoughts they tear me up inside, devour me, consume my mind.
I scream at night, rip our my hair, how much more can I forbear?
I swear, this I swear to you, from birth I think we knew, nothing is truly alive unless it dies.
7. I am Dmitri Karamazov and the World is My Father
So it starts, from one impurity held in place by loveless security,
always thrown around and beaten by squinted eyes that soon bear turned back,
abstract views through broken bottles of brandy.
I'm questioned all my life why I kept on saying that I didn't even ask to be here,
you made that choice for me, enrolled me in your schools and church and in your god forsaken military.
What cost do I pay for being born of you?
My life, enslaved by passions, held away from me.
Who is my mother? Where is her grace?
Where is that subtle joy I crave?
It's gone, or should I say never existed anyway.
Through blurry winter clouds and snow melted by anger - my subscription. My addiction.
If I had one love in the world: you tried to take it away.
A pound of nuts is simply not enough to keep my rage at bay
and though I didn't kill you, like you tried to do to me.
I'm just as guilty because I would have wanted to be free.
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