Xenophanes, fr. B15 DK (= Clem. Strom. 5.110, trans. J. Lesher)
εἰ <δέ> τοι <ἵπποι> ἔχον χέρας ἢ βόες ἠὲ λέοντεςἢ γράψαι χείρεσσι καὶ ἔργα τελεῖν ἅπερ ἄνδρες,ἵπποι μέν θ' ἵπποισι, βόες δέ τε βουσὶν ὁμοίαςκαί <κε> θεῶν ἰδέας ἐγραφον καὶ σώματ' ἐποίουντοιαῦθ' οἷόνπερ καὐτοὶ δέμας εἶχον ἕκαστοι.
But if horses or oxen or lions had hands, or could draw with their hands and accomplish such works as men, horses would draw the figures of the gods as similar to horses, and the oxen as similar to oxen, and they would make the bodies of the sort which each of them had.
Xenophanes, fr. B18 DK (= Stob. 1.8.2, trans. J. Lesher)
οὔτοι ἀπ' ἀρχῆς πάντα θεοὶ θνητοῖς ὑπέδειξαν,ἀλλὰ χρόνωι ζητοῦντες ἐφευρίσκουσιν ἄμεινον.
Indeed not from the beginning did gods intimate all things to mortals, but as they search in time they discover better.
Xenophanes, fr. B34 DK (= Sext. Adv. math. 7.49.110, trans. J. Lesher)
καὶ τὸ μὲν οὖν σαφὲς οὔτις ἀνὴρ ἴδεν οὐδέ τις ἔσταιεἰδὼς ἀμφὶ θεῶν τε καὶ ἅσσα λέγω περὶ πάντων·εἰ γὰρ καὶ τὰ μάλιστα τύχοι τετελεσμένον εἰπών,αὐτὸς ὅμως οὐκ οἶδε· δόκος δ' ἐπὶ πᾶσι τέτυκται.
… and of course the clear and certain truth no man has seen. Nor will there ever be anyone who knows about the gods and what I say about all things. For even if, in the best case, one happened to speak just of what has been brought to pass, still he himself would not know. But opinion is allotted to all.
Heraclitus, fr. 8 Marcovich (= Philo qu. in Gen. 4.1, p. 265 R. Marcus, my translation)
φύσις κρύπτεσθαι φιλεῖ.
Nature loves to hide herself.
Heraclitus, fr. 14 Marcovich (= Plut. de Pyth. or. 404d, my translation)
ὁ ἄναξ οὗ τοὺ μαντεῖόν ἐστι τὸ ἐν Δελφοῖς οὔτε λέγει οὔτε κρύπτει ἀλλὰ σημαίνει.
The lord whose oracle is in Delphi neither speaks nor conceals, but gives signals.
Heraclitus, fr. 28 Marcovich (= Celsus ap. Origen Contra Cels. 6.42, trans. Marcovich)
εἰδέ<ναι> χρὴ τὸν πόλεμον ἐόντα ξυνὸν καὶ δίκην ἔριν καὶ γινόμενα πάντα κατ' ἔριν καὶ χρεών·
One must know that war is common and strife is justice and that all things come to pass by strife and necessity.
Heraclitus, fr. 29 Marcovich (= Hippol. Refut. 9.9.4, my translation)
πόλεμος πάντων μὲν πατήρ ἐστι, πάντων δὲ βασιλεύς, καὶ τοὺς μὲν θεοὺς ἔδειξε τοὺς δὲ ἀνθρώπους, τοὺς μὲν δούλους ἐποίησε τοὺς δὲ ἐλευθέρους.
War is father of all and king of all, and so he reveals some as gods, and others as men; he makes some slaves, and others free.
Heraclitus, fr. 77 Marcovich (= Hippol. Refut. 9.10.8, trans. Robinson, emended)
ὁ θεὸς ἡμέρη εὐφρόνη, χειμὼν θέρος, πόλεμος εἰρήνη, κόρος λιμός ... ἀλλοιοῦται δὲ ὅκωσπερ <πῦρ>, <ὅ>κοταν συμμιγῆι θυώμασιν ὀνομάζεται καθ' ἡδονὴν ἑκάστου.
God is day and night, winter and summer, war and peace, satiety and famine, and undergoes change in [the] way that fire, whenever it is mixed with spices, gets called by the name that accords with the bouquet of each spice.
Heraclitus, fr. 91 Marcovich (= Porphyr. Quaest. Hom. ad Il. 4.4, p. 69 Schrader, trans. Marcovich)
τῶι μὲν θεῶι καλὰ πάντα καὶ δίκαια, ἄνθρωποι δὲ ἃ μὲν ἄδικα ὑπειλήφασιν ἃ δὲ δίκαια.
To god all things are fair and just, whereas humans have supposed that some things are unjust, others just.
Heraclitus, fr. 103 Marcovich (= Diog. 9.2, my translation)
μάχεσθαι χρὴ τὸν δῆμον ὑπέρ γε τοῦ νόμου ὅκωσπερ τείχεος.
The people must fight for their law as for their wall.
Parmenides, fr. 5 Coxon (= Simpl. in Phys. 117, trans. Kingsley, emended)
χρὴ τὸ λέγειν τε νοεῖν τ' ἐὸν ἔμμεναι, ἔστι γὰρ εἶναι,μηδὲν δ' οὐκ ἔστιν· τά σ' ἐγὼ φράζεσθαι ἄνωγα·πρώτης γάρ σ' ἀφ' ὁδοῦ ταύτης διζήσιος <εἴργω>,αὐτὰρ ἔπειτ' ἀπὸ τῆς, ἣν δὴ βροτοὶ εἰδότες οὐδὲνπλάζονται δίκρανοι, ἀμηχανίη γὰρ ἐν αὐτῶνστήθεσιν ἰθύνει πλαγκτὸν νόον, οἱ δὲ φωρεῦνταικωφοὶ ὁμῶς τυφλοί τε, τεθηπότες, ἄκριτα φῦλα,οἷς τὸ πέλειν τε καὶ οὐκ εἶναι τωὐτὸν νενόμισται
κοὐ τωὐτόν, πάντων δὲ παλίντροπος ἐστι κέλευθος.
What exists for saying and for thinking must be. For [being] exists; but nothing does not exist. You ponder that! This is the first road of inquiry that I hold you back from. But then I hold you back as well from the one that mortals fabricate, twin-heads, knowing nothing. For helplessness in their chests is what steers their wandering minds as they are carried along in a daze, deaf and blind at the same time: indistinguishable, undistinguishing crowds who reckon that being and non-being are the same but not the same. And, for all of them, the route they follow is a path that keeps turning backwards on itself.
Excerpt from "The Six Resolutions" in The Hundred Thousand Songs 9 (trans. Garma C. C. Chang). Milarepa (c. 1052-c. 1135 CE).
In the beginning, nothing comes
In the middle, nothing stays;
In the end, nothing goes.
Undated Letter to an Unknown Recipient. Thomas Muentzer.
Our scribes and pharisees should be given the asses' milk in the skin of Jael, who slew Sisera; compare Judges 4 with the text in Isaiah 65: that you may suck and be satisfied from her consoling breasts, not ours. Paul uses milk to train those who are yet incapable [1 Cor. 1:8], while our contemporaries see to it that they remain boys forever, Isaiah 65. God himself laughs at such ceremonies, for he makes our salvation begin and continue to its end in fear. In his last chapter, Isaiah makes the same point, though not quite as well as Paul: that you may suck and abound in delights from all the manifestations of her glory. You will be carried to her breasts and be made happy on her knees.An instance of Muentzer's unusual biblical exegesis.
Copies of Notes for Sermons. Thomas Muentzer (1520).
(1) Doing many works, doing none at all; both are wrong. The Jews did many, the heathen none.
...
(5) The work of God is as bitter as the abyss of hell.
Letter to an Unknown Recipient. Thomas Muentzer (1522).
Those who blether away about me denying the doctrine of Christ, as they call it, are fabricating lies. Against them I set the immutable will of God to which I have always adhered. In brief, I confront all impious impostors with the church of Jesus of Nazareth in all its purity as constituted by the fore-ordination of God. What do their complaints about the spirits of men being confused and uncertain matter? The time is imminent which will be really dangerous for all the impious, those who thrust themselves forward--by non-sequiturs [epicharemate in Muentzer's Greek] all their own--as singled out by divine grace, which they understand as much as a goose understands the Milky Way in the firmament. For it is the elect who proclaim the marvels of the living word in the law, which have been infallibly written in my heart, and if, by a miraculous dispensation, God should save us, we like Jonah will not be abhorred, as long as we possess our souls in patience.
Open Letter to the Brothers in Stolberg. Thomas Muentzer (1523).
But before one can be sure of salvation torrents of water come again and again with thundering so fearsome that one loses the will to live; for the waves of this wild, surging ocean swallow up many who think they have already won through. So one should not flee these waves but negotiate them skillfully, as wise helmsmen do; for the Lord only gives his holy testimony to someone who has first made his way through perplexity. That is why the hearts of men are so seldom touched with the true spirit of Christ, to whom our souls truly belong; they [want] a foretaste of life eternal before the heart is prepared by the pains of hell for the endless days of eternity ... He who cannot endure his hell willingly will endure it all the same--as a laughingstock, and gnashing his teeth.
Letter to Count Ernest von Mansfeld. Thomas Muentzer (1523).
Now this much is true; I know for a fact--because it is notorious--that you have issued a public edict stringently forbidding your subjects to come to my heretical mass and sermons ... Should you persist (which God forfend) in such senseless banning and raging then I must continue to censure and denounce you and blot you out on paper as long as the blood flows in my veins, and not only to Christian people, either, but I will have my books accusing you translated into many tongues, and let Turks, pagans, and Jews know you for the unbalanced, insane person that you are.
Letter to the Persecuted Christians of Sangerhausen. Thomas Muentzer (1524).
For the whole Christian people is becoming a whore with its adulation of man.
For it is common knowledge, and can be proved from the holy bible, that the lords and princes as they behave today are no Christians. Likewise your priests and monks pray to the devil and are still further removed from being Christians. Likewise all your preachers and hypocrites who bow down before men. How much longer will you go on with false expectations? Precious little can be expected of the princes. So anyone who wants to fight the Turks does not need to go far afield; the Turk is in our midst.
Letter to Thomas Muentzer. Andreas Karlstadt (1524).
I am hardly likely to be persuaded that there is any better way of gathering the sheep of Christ than, as Isaiah and Zechariah say, by the word of truth ... But when you insert the request for a letter [from me] to encourage the people of Schneeberg and the fifteen villages etc. [in mounting an organized resistance against secular and religious authority], I find myself quite unable to support your approval of this. For it seems to me that leagues of this kind are altogether contrary to the divine will and cause incalculable harm to souls which have been sprinkled with the spirit of fear; for it is like replacing a walking-stick with a reed [2 Kings 18:21]--trust in blessing, in the living God, with trust in cursing, in man. You know how wicked that is. And the whole of Scripture testifies how much it alienates fearful minds from God, so that they become feckless, unable to hear the voice of the Lord; and even if Scripture were silent, experience would cry out in the streets that to cast one's trust and heart on man is to have a large, thick foreskin of the heart [Jer. 4:4].Penetrating wisdom, topped off with an impressive biblical metaphor.
Note to "Vindication and Refutation" (against Martin Luther). Thomas Muentzer (1524).
Vulpis, fecisti merere mendaciter cor iusti, quem dominus non contristavit. Confortastique manus impiorum tuorum, ne revertantur a via mala, ob id peribis et populus dei liberabitur a tyrannide tua. Tu videbis deum esse dominum. Ezechielis 13. capitulo.Note that Muentzer's translation is actually an elaboration: like Joseph Smith, he cannot simply translate.
Translated this reads: O Doctor Liar, you wily fox. With your lies you have saddened the heart of the just man, whom God did not cause to grieve. For you have strengthened the power of the godless evil-doers, so that they could continue on in their old way. Therefore your fate will be that of the fox that has been hunted down; the people will go free and God alone will be their Lord.
"La Canción del Pirata." José de Espronceda. El Artista, 1835.
Con diez cañones por banda
Viento en popa a toda vela
No corta el mar si no vuela
Un velero bergantín
Bajel pirata que llaman
Por su bravura el temido
En todo el mar conocido
Del uno al otro confín
La luna en el mar riela
Y en la lona gime el viento
Y alza en blando movimiento
Olas de plata y azul
Y ve el capitán pirata
Cantando alegre en la popa
Asia a un lado, al otro Europa
Y allá a su frente Estambul
Navega velero mío
Sin temor que ni enemigo navío
Ni tormenta ni bonanza
Tu rumbo a torcer alcanza
Ni a sujetar tu valor
Veinte presas hemos hecho
A despecho del inglés
Y han rendido sus pendones
Cien naciones a mis pies
Que es mi barco mi tesoro
Que es mi dios mi libertad
Mi ley la fuerza y el viento
Mi única patria la mar
Allá muevan feroz guerras
Ciegos reyes, por un palmo más de tierra
Que yo tengo aquí por mío
Cuanto abarca el mar bravío
A quien nadie impuso leyes
Y no hay playa sea cualquiera
Ni bandera de esplendor
Que no sienta mi derecho
Y de pecho a mi valor
Que es mi barco mi tesoro
Que es mi dios mi libertad
Mi ley la fuerza y el viento
Mi única patria la mar
A la voz de «¡barco viene!»
Es de ver como vira y se previene
A todo trapo escapar
Que yo soy el rey del mar
Y mi furia has de temer
En las presas yo divido
Lo cogido por igual
Solo quiero por riqueza
La belleza sin rival
Sentenciado estoy a muerte
Yo me rio, no me abandoné a la suerte
Y al mismo que me condena
Colgaré de alguna entena
Quizá de su propio navío
Y si caigo ¿qué es la vida?
Por perdida ya la dí
Cuando el yugo del esclavo
Como un bravo sacudí
Son mi música mejor
Aquilones el estrépito y temblor
De los cables sacudidos
Del negro mar los bramidos
Y el rugir de mis cañones
Y del trueno al son violento
Y del viento al rebramar
Yo me duermo sosegado
Arrullado por el mar
Que es mi barco mi tesoro
Que es mi dios mi libertad
Mi ley la fuerza y el viento
Mi única patria la mar
"Invictus." William Ernest Henley (1875).
Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.
In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.
Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.
It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
"Symphony for a Sea Bird." The Way of Chuang Tzu. Thomas Merton. Abbey of Gethsemani, 1965.
You cannot put a big load in a small bag,
Nor can you, with a short rope,
Draw water from a deep well.
You cannot talk to a power politician
As if he were a wise man.
If he seeks to understand you,
If he looks inside himself
To find the truth you have told him,
He cannot find it there.
Not finding, he doubts.
When a man doubts,
He will kill.
Have you not heard how a bird from the sea
Was blown inshore and landed
Outside the capital of Lu?
The Prince ordered a solemn reception,
Offered the sea bird wine in the sacred precinct,
Called for musicians
To play the compositions of Shun,
Slaughtered cattle to nourish it:
Dazed with symphonies, the unhappy sea bird
Died of despair.
How should you treat a bird?
As yourself
Or as a bird?
Ought not a bird to nest in deep woodland
Or fly over meadow and marsh?
Ought it not to swim on river and pond,
Feed on eels and fish,
Fly in formation with other waterfowl,
And rest in the reeds?
Bad enough for a sea bird
To be surrounded by men
And frightened by their voices!
That was not enough!
They killed it with music!
Play all the symphonies you like
On the marshlands of Thung-Ting.
The birds will fly away
In all directions;
The animals will hide;
The fish will dive to the bottom;
But men
Will gather around to listen.
Water is for fish
And air is for men.
Natures differ, and needs with them.
Hence the wise men of old
Did not lay down
One measure for all.
"The Need to Win." The Way of Chuang Tzu. Thomas Merton. Abbey of Gethsemani, 1965.
When an archer is shooting for nothing
He has all his skill.
If he shoots for a brass buckle
He is already nervous.
If he shoots for a prize of gold
He goes blind
Or sees two targets --
He is out of his mind!
His skill has not changed. But the prize
Divides him. He cares.
He thinks more of winning
Than of shooting --
And the need to win
Drains him of power.
"The Sacrificial Swine." The Way of Chuang Tzu. Thomas Merton. Abbey of Gethsemani, 1965.
The Grand Augur, who sacrificed the swine and read omens in the sacrifice, came dressed in his long dark robes, to the pig pen, and spoke to the pigs as follows: "Here is my counsel to you. Do not complain about having to die. Set your objections aside, please. Realize that I shall feed you on choice grain for three months. I myself will have to observe strict discipline for ten days and fast for three. Then I will lay out grass mats and offer your hams and shoulders upon delicately carved platters with great ceremony. What more do you want?"
Then, reflecting, he considered the question from the pigs' point of view: "Of course, I suppose you would prefer to be fed with ordinary coarse feed and be left alone in your pens."
But again, seeing it once more from his own viewpoint, he replied: "No, definitely there is a nobler kind of existence! To live with honor, to receive the best treatment, to ride in a carriage with fine clothes, even though at any moment one may be disgraced and executed, that is the noble, though uncertain, destiny that I have chosen for myself."
So he decided against the pigs' point of view, and adopted his own point of view, both for himself and for the pigs also.
How fortunate those swine, whose existence was thus ennobled by one who was at once an officer of state and a minister of religion.
"The Fighting Cock." The Way of Chuang Tzu. Thomas Merton. Abbey of Gethsemani, 1965.
Chi Hsing Tzu was a trainer of fighting cocks
For King Hsuan.
The King kept asking if the bird were
Ready for combat.
"Not yet," said the trainer.
"He is full of fire.
He is ready to pick a fight
With every other bird. He is vain and confident
Of his own strength."
After ten days, he answered again:
"Not yet. He flares up
When he hears another bird crow."
After ten more days:
"Not yet. He still gets
That angry look
And ruffles his feathers."
Again ten days:
The trainer said, "Now he is nearly ready.
When another bird crows, his eye
Does not even flicker.
He stands immobile
Like a cock of wood.
He is a mature fighter.
Other birds
Will take one look at him
And run.
"The Woodcarver." The Way of Chuang Tzu. Thomas Merton. Abbey of Gethsemani, 1965.
Khing, the master carver, made a bell stand
Of precious wood. When it was finished,
All who saw it were astounded. They said it must be
The work of spirits.
The Prince of Lu said to the master carver:
"What is your secret?"
Khing replied: "I am only a workman:
I have no secret. There is only this:
When I began to think about the work you commanded
I guarded my spirit, did not expend it
On trifles, that were not to the point.
I fasted in order to set
My heart at rest.
After three days fasting,
I had forgotten gain and success.
After five days
I had forgotten praise or criticism.
After seven days
I had forgotten my body
With all its limbs.
"By this time all thought of your Highness
And of the court had faded away.
All that might distract me from the work
Had vanished.
I was collected in the single thought
Of the bell stand.
"Then I went to the forest
To see the trees in their own natural state.
When the right tree appeared befoer my eyes,
The bell stand also appeared in it, clearly, beyond doubt.
All I had to do was put forth my hand
And begin.
"If I had not met this particular tree
There would have been
No bell stand at all.
"What happened?
My own collected thought
Encountered hidden potential in the wood;
From this live encounter came the work
Which you ascribe to the spirits."
"I Ain't Marching Any More." Phil Ochs. Elektra, 1965. (Black 47.)
Oh I marched to the battle of New Orleans
At the end of the early British war
The young land started growing
The young blood started flowing
But I ain't marchin' anymore
For I've killed my share of Indians
In a thousand different fights
I was there at the Little Big Horn
I heard many men lying
I saw many more dying
But I ain't marchin' anymore
It's always the old to lead us to the war
It's always the young to fall
Now look at all we've won with the saber and the gun
Tell me is it worth it all
For I stole California from the Mexican land
Fought in the bloody Civil War
Yes I even killed my brother
And so many others
And I ain't marchin' anymore
For I marched to the battles of the German trench
In a war that was bound to end all wars
Oh I must have killed a million men
And now they want me back again
But I ain't marchin' anymore
For I flew the final mission in the Japanese sky
Set off the mighty mushroom roar
When I saw the cities burning
I knew that I was learning
That I ain't marchin' anymore
Now the labor leader's screamin' when they close the missile plants,
United Fruit screams at the Cuban shore,
Call it peace or call it treason,
Call it love or call it reason,
But I ain't marchin' any more.
"Brothers in Arms." Dire Straits (Warner Brothers, 1985).
These mist covered mountains
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be
Some day you'll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you'll no longer burn
To be brothers in arms
Through these fields of destruction
Baptisms of fire
I've witnessed your suffering
As the battles raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms
There's so many different worlds
So many different suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones
Now the sun's gone to hell
And the moon's riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it's written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
We're fools to make war
On our brothers in arms
"Corazon del Guerrero." Tierra Santa. Indomable. Locomotive Music, 2003.
Antorchas de fuego en la noche arderán
hoy tiembla la tierra por tu libertad
el humo en el cielo
tu sangre en la arena
y el miedo en tu hogar
Tu alma no puede dejar de gritar
tus venas palpitan tu alma ha de hablar
arriba en el templo
oir entre las piedras
la sangre caerá
Ahora debes luchar
aunque tu vida puedas agotar
por tu tierra resistirás
Proteges tu pueblo del conquistador
que un dia creiste que era tu dios
mortal enemigo
que ahoga a tu pueblo
con su terror
El grito del alma ha dejado de hablar
las lagrimas riegan la tierra al llorar
la sangre ahora es llanto
que cubre el relato
de la verdad
ahora debes luchar
aunque tu vida puedas agotar
por tu tierra resistirás
Aunque mueras por luchar
en el campo de batalla
tu alma siempre vivirá
por buscar la libertad
"Pour Decisions." The Real McKenzies. 10,000 Shots. Fat Wreck Chords, 2005.
I'm living up in Canada, and I'm Canadian --
Scottish Canadian, with opportunity.
I could have been a manager of a brewery
Making beer for everyone, but most of all for me.
My father was a soda jerk, my mom an office clerk,
But neither one of those was good enough for me.
I could have moved into the hill, and ran a few stills,
And made a fortune selling hooch beyond the law.
Pour decision, a punk musician just ain't as cute at 53!
I used to be a lumberjack, and I'm OK with that --
I wore suspenders, little panties, and a bra.
I used to be a socialist, a sort of communist,
Now I'm a pessimist and I don't care at all.
I could have been a minister, a holy predator,
A man of faith you really wouldn't want to meet --
Perhaps a Scientologist, just as a hobbyist
And start a cult that's turning people into sheep.
Pour decision, a punk musician just ain't as cute at 53!
I have forsaken money makin' ...
Yeah, you still wish you were me!
"Smokin' Bowl." The Real McKenzies. 10,000 Shots. Fat Wreck Chords, 2005.
See, that smokin' bowl before you
Marks our glorious revelry.
Round and round, take up a chorus
And in raptures loudly sing!
A fig for the law-protected,
Liberty's a glorious feast!
A court's for the cowards erected,
And the church is built to please the priest!
"Toxic Spiritual Nature ... and Those Desks Pinch." John Rogers (Kung Fu Monkey, 2005).
It's about control. That's what we're fighting here, folks, that's what the whole first half of the 21st Century is going to be about. It's not about worshiping God, it's about an angry 10% insisting other people believe the same way they do, and arguing with a straight face that they're being actively persecuted, thereby sucking in another 20% because one of the great secrets of human nature is that the one thing people want more than love, security, sex, chocolate or big-screen TV's is to feel hard done by.
Why? Because being hard done by is the shit. Feeling hard done by is the sweetest of drugs. If you're being persecuted -- it must mean you're doing the right thing, right? You get the mellow buzz of the moral high ground, but without arrogantly claiming it as your own. You get an instant, supportive community in a big dark scary world of such scope it may well literally be beyond rational human processing. When you are hard done by, you get purpose in a life where otherwise, you'd have to find your own. And when you ride that high, then no amount of logic, no pointing out that in actuality you and your beliefs are at a high point of popularity and influence for the last hundred years -- is going to pry that sweet crack-pipe of moral indignation from your hands.
"Ten Feet Tall." The Devil Makes Three. Milan Records, 2007.
You walk around this town, like it's holy land
You got good looking friends, you're a sharp dressed man
Been gettin' big, makin' me look small
It don't matter to me, cause I'm 10 feet, I'm 10 feet tall
Yeah it don't matter to me, cause I'm 10 feet, I'm 10 feet tall
Take a look at your foot does it fit this shoe
Did you really ever think I gave a damn about you
You ain't no Messiah with your fancy friends
So get your head out of the clouds
And get your feet back in the dirt, my friend
Get your head out of the clouds
And get your feet back in the dirt, my friend
Get your head out of the clouds
And get your feet back in the dirt, my friend
Well you talk about your home town, let me tell you about mine
You shove your bright lights, big city, back where the sun don't shine
I hear you talkin', yes I'm lookin' at you
'Cause back where I come from, man we're laughin' at you
Yeah back where I come from, man we're laughin' at you
Take a look at your foot does it fit this shoe
Did you ever think I gave a damn about you
You ain't no Messiah with your fancy friends
So get your head out of the clouds
And get your feet back in the dirt, my friend
Get your head out of the clouds
And get your feet back in the dirt, my friend
Get your head out of the clouds
And get your feet back in the dirt, my friend
Well, wipe that smirk right back from where you came
As if you knew who I am, as if you knew my name
Turn around, see your back's against the wall
Too bad you didn't notice that I'm 10 feet, I'm 10 feet tall
Yeah it's too bad you didn't notice that I'm 10 feet, I'm 10 feet tall
Take a look at your foot does it fit this shoe
Did you really ever think I gave a damn about you
You ain't no Messiah with your fancy friends
So get your head out of the clouds
And get your feet back in the dirt, my friend
Get your head out of the clouds
And get your feet back in the dirt, my friend
Get your head out of the clouds
And get your feet back in the dirt, my friend
I'm 10 feet, I'm 10 feet tall
I'm 10 feet, I'm 10 feet tall
"Spoken Wheel, With a Wonder and a Wild Desire." Flogging Molly. Within a Mile of Home, 2007.
Your passin' broke the silence
On that dark October day
The sun was headin' for the west
As it did I heard you say
I set my sail for a gentle breeze
Now I leave this world as it was meant to be
And you, did you listen to anything I said?
Did you ever listen to me?
Though now it seems you'll never know
But every lad to a man must grow
Till winter comes to celebrate
Then proudly chill the bone
When at last they bury me
Into this ground you'll someday see
And you, did you listen to anything I said?
Did you ever listen to me?
Though the face we wear
Sometimes seldom speaks
From the babe that cries
To this grown man's feet
May the hand still write
And it's heart shape keep
Till our fathers, sons and daughters agree
So I will pave this road till glory
Sets our broken spirit free
From every cross soaked nail, pours endless rain
With tears, no eyes should see
But they could fill our highest ocean
And the rivers in between
With every blade that flowers must grow, then drown
With love, our cruelest sea
So with a wonder an' a wild desire
I will crawl from under every weight
With a wonder an' a wild desire
Bless the day it was I shared your name
Yesterday forever speaks your grave
Hailed the shower from the broadside
To the heavens down below
Draw one last breathe from your famine ship
Sink the hunger in us all
Shake the hand that speaks of freedom
Kiss hate one final bow
'Til each twilight falls, then rests till dawn
Where tomorrows never sleep
So with a wonder an' a wild desire
I will crawl from under every weight
With a wonder an' a wild desire
Bless the day it was I shared your name
Each word, forever speaks your grave
And of the fool, we shall not mention
That depraves the cries of youth
Drag not your strength from government
But from the voices they abused
So with a wonder an' a wild desire
I will crawl from under every weight
With a wonder an' a wild desire
Bless the day it was I shared your name
Yesterday forever speaks your grave
Only time will tell, when this reign of hell
Shall wither in defeat
Separate the bread that they forgot to share
To the mouths still left to feed
Though his body ached
Then disappeared
Into the ground now seeds
He said, "I, I'll always comfort thee"
So I will pave this road till glory
Watch as our broken spirits soar
Resonate with perfect reason
Shut life's last gloomy door
So with a wonder an' a wild desire
I will cross from under every weight
With a wonder an' a wild desire
Bless the day it was I shared your name
With a wonder an' a wild desire
I will cross from under every weight
With a wonder an' a wild desire
Bless the day it was I shared your name
Yesterday forever speaks your grave
"From the Back of a Broken Dream." Flogging Molly. Float. Borstal Beat Records, 2008.
As your soul drips from the plate
To the floor where she is standing
Her eyes lit by the fire
From the torch you were burning
Many years brought many tears
And many more will soon be arriving
But I'll drink this final drop
To enter your front door
Gone are the days
When I poured from the rain
Where once, once washed a man
Goin' down life's drain
In time, in time you will see
Just what you mean to me
For I have let an angel
Clip my wings
Come back, young volunteer
For your war, now it is over
Lay down your blackened gun
Not another bad word spoken
Come tell of all you've seen
To the soul you´re no longer killing
And rest your weary voice
The last battle song has cried
Gone are the days
When I poured from the rain
Where once, once washed a man
Goin' down life's drain
In time, in time you will see
Just what you mean to me
For I have let an angel
Clip my wings
An angel clipped my wings
From the back of this broken dream
So no ground need ever break my fall again
For I return to sing this tune
From the back of a broken dream
Time won't hurry back
Time won't stall
Time to forget the past
Brush the cobwebs from the wall
For I survived to sing this tune
From the back of a broken dream
An angel clipped my wings
From the back of a broken dream
So no ground need ever break my fall again
For I return to sing this tune
From the back of a broken dream
"Still Unbroken." Lynyrd Skynyrd. God & Guns. Roadrunner, 2009.
Broken bones, broken hearts
Stripped down and torn apart
A little bit of rust: I'm still runnin'
Countin' miles, countin' tears
Twisted roads, shiftin' gears
Year after year: it's all or nothin'
But I'm not home, I'm not lost
Still holdin' on to what I got
Ain't much left
Though there's so much that's been stolen
I guess I've lost everything I've had
But I'm not dead, at least not yet
Still alone, still alive, still unbroken
I'm still alone, still alive,
I'm still unbroken
Never captured, never tamed
Wild horses on the plains
You can call me lost: I call it freedom
I feel the spirit in my soul
It's something, Lord, I can't control
I'm never givin' up while I'm still breathin'!
I'm not home, I'm not lost
Still holdin' on to what I got
Ain't much left
Lord, there's so much that's been stolen
I guess I've lost everything I've had
I'm not dead, at least not yet
Still alive, still alone, Still unbroken
I'm still alone, still alive,
Still unbroken
I'm still unbroken
Like the wind, like the rain
It's all runnin' through my veins
Like a river pouring down into the ocean
I'm out here on the streets
But I'm standing on my feet
Still alive, still alone, still unbroken
I'm not home, I'm not lost
Still holdin' on to what I got
Ain't much left
Lord, there's so much that's been stolen
Guess I've lost everything I've had
But I'm not dead, at least not yet
Still alive, still alone, still unbroken
I'm still alone, still alive,
I'm still unbroken
I'm still alone
Still alive
Still unbroken
I'm still unbroken
I ain't never going down!
I'm still unbroken
"Bankers and Gangsters." Black 47. Bankers and Gangsters. United for Opportunity, 2010.
Johnnie's on a hot ledge
Just out of college
He owes fifty grand to the banking industry
But the dude's on a slow burn
Another unpaid intern
Four years just bought him some credit history with them
Bankers and gangsters, soldiers and dancers
All locked together in default harmony
With the financial chancers, and all manner of high rolling romancers
Livin' out this American tragedy
Mary got a problem
20 years workin'
Gave her a pink slip - ain't talkin' lingerie
Closed down her cubicle
Hey, it ain't economical
You wanna move to South East Asia with them
Bankers and gangsters, soldiers and dancers
All locked together in default harmony
With the financial chancers, and all manner of high rolling romancers
Livin' out this American tragedy
Eddie back from Baghdad
Head it hurt so bad
Left a piece of it with the Jihadi
Buggin' out at the VA
Mortgage late, benefits delayed
Go wave your yellow ribbons for the military with them
Bankers and gangsters, soldiers and dancers
All locked together in default harmony
With the financial chancers, and all manner of high rolling romancers
Livin' out this American tragedy
And all of our saints go marching through
Waving their red, white and their blue
Patriots and presidents say I got to live on less
But less for me means a whole lot more for you
Annie on the cell-phone
To her son in Dayton
It breaks her heart to beg for sympathy
But she's seventy and on her own
Gotta bum a short-term loan
You ever tried livin' on social security with them
Bankers and gangsters, soldiers and dancers
All locked together in default harmony
With the financial chancers, and all manner of high rolling romancers
Livin' out this American tragedy
"Saints and Sinners." Flogging Molly. Speed of Darkness. Borstal Beat Records, 2011.
Saints and sinners are but we
Twisted wrecks of symmetry
Like broken arrows split
Against this mindless rift we feed
Saints and sinners are
And each other's company we seek
Though we took our separate paths
Back to the womb where we collapsed
On buildings full of living bricks
Cementing walls, a dangerous fix
Saints and sinners are
Begrudgers who will never mix
Contemplating right from wrong
In retrospect we don't get on
So Armageddon here we come
Who are the chosen ones?
Consequences who you've been
For in damnation Satan grins
We're saints and we're sinners
Nothing more than lost beginners
Both now facing endless falls
It's hell or heaven calls
The public scorn
Every saint now has a past
So may the sinners' future last
Every ghost still has a haunt
Where he or she feels they belong
All possessing tortured souls
Confessing all that's yet to be
Saints and sinners are
Lunatics, a vicious breed
So Armageddon here we come
Who are the chosen ones?
Consequences who you've become
For in damnation Satan grins
We're saints and we're sinners
Nothing more than lost beginners
So wise men crank the guillotine
Where heads will roll for all to see
"Avalon." The Dreadnoughts. Uncle Touchy Goes to College, 2011.
I lie in centuries' grove
Where the cool wind blows
Where the cool wind blows
Upon this stone plateau
Where the cool wind blows
Where the cool wind blows
A dust is falling in the air
The murderers are millionaires
I will wait to see you there
Avalon, Avalon
A young man fell below
Where flowers grow
Row on row
A madman lays the foe
Where flowers grow
And the children know
From its shattered, naked bark
A little girl grows up alone
Carves her name into the stones
Of Avalon, Avalon
You are my piece of mind
Where the river winds
Where the water shines
Orchard's years' advice
Where water shines
Where water shines
You do not belong to anyone
When the day is said and done
You'll receive your native son
Avalon, Avalon
"The Tempest." The Real McKenzies. Westwinds. Fat Wreck Chords, 2012.
We are all born free but forever live in chains
And we battle to exist and soldier on
We'll take whatever comes to be while keeping hopeful melody
And we'll cruise through the darkness until the warmth of dawn
So row, row, ye bastards, you never can tell
Through water like glass above a briny hell
So row and all holler, come give her all you can
Or the sea she will best us: we'll never see the land
We carry on the burden and we hide our grimace well
For the day will come for us to mutiny
But as long as we survive, our hope and pride they can't deprive
And we'll carry on our melody to sing in harmony
So row, row, ye bastards, you never can tell
Over water like glass above a briny hell
So row and all holler, come give her all you can
Or the sea she will best us: we'll never see the land
So row, row, ye bastards, you never can tell
The ocean a tempest, all around a stormy hell
So row and haul over, till bloody are your hands
Or the sea she will best us, we'll never see the land
We are wracked from the hardships
Exhausted by the years -- we can still escape this barren misery
But even with our shackled wrists we can fight our way through this
And we'll power all aboard the ship to total liberty
So row, row, ye bastards, you never can tell
The ocean a tempest, all around a stormy hell
So row a little harder till bloody are your hands
Or the sea she will best us, we'll never see the land
No comments:
Post a Comment