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Crass - Christ, The Album - Lyrics
1982
1. HAVE A NICE DAYsame old stuff, you've heard it all before crass being crass about the system, or is it war? we ain't got no humour, we don't know how to laugh if you don't fucking like it - fucking tough! cos i'm the same old monkey in the same old zoo same old message trying to get through screaming from the platform when the train ain't even there i've got a one way ticket, but i don't fucking care if what i've got to say is always much the same it's cos the game the system plays is still the same old game senile idiots in their seats of power ancient rotting corpses breathing horror by the hour they're lovers of death the fucking creeps screwing our earth, as our earth weeps iron ladies, steel men waiting for their fucking war to start again blood lusting nutters plan death for us all they'll be hiding in their bunkers as we watch the missiles fall ain't they just so decent, respectable and nice eating the fat of the land while it's us that pay the price westminster's full of psychopaths with blood clots 'stead of brains flesh hungry vultures picking our remains shitting on the world they've shat on many times before fucked it good and proper in the name of law well bollocks to the lot of you and you can fuck off too if you're bored with what i say, no-one's asking you just fuck off and have your fun hoist your jolly roger and wave your plastic gun with your painted faces and your elegant style how about trying to think for a while? as your decorate your lifestyle with cheap consumer bliss forget about loving, it's your arse you're going to kiss as long as they've got you under their thumb with t.v. lobotomy and media fun they'll have their way with you, what more can i say? watch out for the mind police and have a nice day
chorus: mummy and daddy owned me till i could understand at the end of my arm was my own fucking hand in my head i had a brain that they filled up with lies i didn't fucking need them with their love and family ties little children shouldn't speak until they're spoken to just another showpiece to show the neighbours who can produce the perfect babe with everything in place god help you if you come out without an angel face if you haven't got the looks that prove how nice you are you'll have failed your duty and that's all you fucking are you're just a status symbol that they need to have in life just the proof they need to be the perfect man and wife chorus like a fucking dustbin they fill you up with trash tell you all that life is, is working for some cash life's a competition and you've got to be the best tread on everybody else, forget about the rest they tell you to be grateful for what they've done to you like tell you the conditions and pump it into you that you really mustn't fail them cos you owe them a debt cos they're the ones that made you and they won't let you forget chorus you're not a human in their eyes, you're a novelty don't want you thinking, you'll break the fantasy fantasy that you're a toy providing endless fun you're not a human being, you're their daughter or their son you bring them lots of happiness when you're very small but when you lose those darling looks no-one cares to call cos you're no more the cuddly toy for them to hug and hold you're not an individual and they're just getting old chorus didn't fucking need them with their love and family ties (repeat) didn't fucking need them with their love and bloody lies
who needs lobotomy when we've got the itv who needs ect when there's good old bbc? switch on the set, light up the screen fantasise and dream about what you might have been who needs controlling when they've got the cathode ray they've got your fucking soul, now they'll fuse your brains away mindless fucking morons sit before the set being fed the mindless rubbish they deserve to get can't switch off big brother, they've lost all will to act lost in drab confusion, was it fiction, was it fact? another plastic bullet stuns another irish child but no-one's really bothered, no, the telly keeps them mild they've lost all sense of feeling to the every hungry glow drained of any substance by the vicious telly blow no longer know what's real or ain't, slowly going blind they stare into the goggle box while the world goes by, behind the angels are on t.v. tonight, grey puke fucking shit they army occupy ireland, but the boot will never fit was it coronation street? or was it londonderry? oh it doesn't fucking matter, paul daniels'll keep us merry yes, i've heard of bobby sands, wasn't it emmerdale farm? yes, that's right, he was kicked by a cow i hope it didn't do him no harm and wasn't the holocaust terrible, good thing it wasn't for real of course i've heard of h-block, it's the baccy with man appeal deeper and deeper and deeper, layer upon layer illusion, confusion, is there anyone left who can care? yes, the abbey national cares for you nat west, and securicor well brings out the branston bren-guns let's spice it up some more the sweeney are cruising brixton, created another belfast and j.r.'s advising thatcher on lighting, make up and cast a thousand camera lenses point at the people's pain as millions of mindless morons watch the action replay again action replay again softly, softly, into your life, you're held in it's brilliant glow softly, softly, feeding itself on the you you'll never know you're life's reduced to nothing, but an empty media game big brother ain't watching you mate, you're fucking watching him
think i was born on this wretched earth for you to govern and kill? in your stinking factories and offices with your stupid systems and skills? think i've got nothing better to do than to grovel in the shit and the crap? asking for the bread and home that's mine and waiting for a pat on the back? think i've got nothing better to do than to live in the lie that you give? learn the sweet morals, the lessons, the games and praise god for the fact that i live? you took me and made me a man by making me strong, the power of this land you took a woman and taught her she's less a slave to the strong no more than a guest you taught me to love, find a mate and to take a woman to serve but your love is just rape you leave me my children to hold and distort to bind with your rules of normality til caught i give them the food that you sell in the shops i'm told is has goodness when it's only the slops you've taken my health with your shitty benevolence you've take my dignity with your dole queue dependence you taught me to steal when i wanted to share to take for myself and not even care you've stifled my vision with oppressive authority dreams and the hopes nearly fade to strangle me gave me confusion until i had learnt to obey all the orders and never get burnt i shout in the streets and you take my voice this sham of democracy leaves no choice take my eyes 'til there's nothing to see except abuse and destruction, no chance to be free taken my thinking, my means of survival thrust in my hand your gun and your bible told me to kill for the lord up above you've given me hate when i know there is love told me to kill for the lord up above you've given me hate when i know there is love
chorus: beg the question, bend the truth bail out the basement while there's holes in the roof in the beginning they said there was light there ain't much left of it now we're lost in the darkness, searching sound and sight of an answer to the what, where or how we're talking 'bout freedom while we're locked in a cell dreaming of a world without war forced to live on the boundaries of hell like no-one's ever thought of peace before what's the point of preaching peace if it's something you don't feel? what's the point of talking love if you think that love ain't real? where's the hope in hopelessness? where's the truth in lies? don't try to hold my hand if you can't look me in the eyes chorus in the beginning they said there was light but somebody's burnt out the fuse and now we're all lost in eternal night looking for a candle to use lots of little candles, isolated hope frail little flames in the gale lost little people who just can't cope knocking their heads on the nail what's the point of talking freedom if you just protect yourself? what's the point of preaching sharing as you accumulate your wealth? it's so easy to be giving if the things you give ain't real it's easy to lie if your ignore the things you feel chorus in the beginning they said there was light but we never had the eyes to see but rather than struggling or putting up a fight we ran like lemmings to the sea no-one really wants to get it all together it's easier to just grab what you can everybody's going it, hell for leather building little castles in the sand hypocrisy, delusion, lies, pretence, deceit think only of yourself and the world's at your feet i don't believe the things you say, you make bullshit of the truth the game you play's offensive and you life's the living proof chorus (x 2) in the beginning they said there was light but i'm tired of hearing their lies i'm tired of deceit, gonna put up a fight i'm going to use my own eyes gonna make my decisions, live my own life they can keep their darkness and gloom hypocrisy, trickery, i've had enough they can keep their destruction and doom i've only one life and i'll live it my way they can keep their restrictions and law if they think different i'll have one thing to say "fuck off cos i've heard it before"
6. BIRTH CONTROL AND ROCK 'N ROLL
industry on the mercenary bloodpath military loves the gory warbath economics shape the battle landscape all join together for the grand rape moral intentions make a scapegoat excuse the rotting corpse inside the trenchcoat praise the rotting minds above the club tie that sits in towers up in the blue sky above the clouds, obscure the scarred earth discuss manoeuvres, moves for more death arms make profit from the crushed head build the towers up on the ditch dead betrayal forms the formal skyline tinted windows catch the sunshine such ice cold beauty makes the heart sink five thousand miles away the dead stink and here the graveyard to insult them the city shines with laughing tombstones the profiteers, the warcry butchers stir up the lust for legal slaughter the living dead who look up to them who accept authority the kills them work for the corporation making napalm workers watch the burning children on t.v. as they eat their meat pie with refusal in their minds eye to see their own lives in that cold death their state of wealth upon that lost breath in the official offices of deathplan leaders of men work to betray man stocks and shares declare the next war the torture starts behind the locked door propaganda tops the big desk compose an overture to fine death the hideous grey men of our nightmares dim the colour, foul the clean air their eyes forsake all that they dwell on drag the lover from the loved ones patriots progress is a backstep a cruel noose around a young neck they teach our children in the classroom to respect a madman on a rostrum to praise the the dirty works of battle bring out the ribbon, balloon and rattle to dig their own graves in the cold earth so sad and pointless now to give birth
the grey man at the wheel looks around to see if there's some skirt he can steal he doesn't really want to, he's just acting out a game in their own fucked up way, most people do the same she cleans the bathroom mirror so she can line her eyes an expert in delusion, an artist in disguise she's not content with what she is, but she does the best she can doesn't do it for herself, she does it for her man and meanwhile he's out hunting, this master of the hunt cruising down the high street in his endless search for cunt and the posters on the hoardings encourage his pursuit glossy ads, where men are men, and women simply cute and the men are in their motorcars and the men have nerves of steel and they dreams of charlies angels as they firmly grip the wheel and they fantasise they're screwing in the back seat of the car fantasise they're fucking with a real life movie star fantasies to fill the gaps, to fill in every crack a whitewash on reality to hide the truth they lack now she's sponging down the cooker, on the surface all is fine his dinner's in the oven cos he's doing overtime she switches on the telly, it makes her feel secure helps confirm her way of life, who needs to ask for more she sees the happy family unit, wife and hubby on the screen the perfect social unit, just like it's always been she's done the very best she can to love and honour and obey her man and if she should ever doubt the wisdom of her choice she can turn on the television for its moderating voice the ads and weekly series are the proof she needs that a life of boredom outweighs the deeds she sits up till the epilogue and goes to bed alone content that when he's finished work he'll go straight home meanwhile he has another scotch, the lady has a coke if he's asked about the wife he treats it as a joke "hear the one about the you-know-what" he's got what it takes and he takes what he's got he took his woman and he'll take plenty more she took on a rat to keep the wolf from the door then maybe in her loneliness she'll want to have a child who'll be taught the games of adulthood, boxed and filed another life to whitewash, to us a child is born to follow in its parents' tracks, the path's well worn fantasy and falsehood, truth and lie the fucked up system they call reality they system needs its servants, each birth is one more gently talk of freedom as they quietly lock the door cos the system needs its servants if the system's going to run fodder for the workhouse, targets for the gun
8. IT'S THE GREATEST WORKING CLASS RIP OFF
chorus: ain't it just a rip of, oi, oi, oi ain't it just a rip of, oi, oi, oi ain't it just a rip of, oi, oi, oi what a fucking rip off, oi, oi, oi another threatening glance, another macho stance another aggressive fist, another arsehole pissed another vicious threat, a stream of blood stained sweat another bottle waved in the air, another battle with tension and fear chorus tell me, why do you glorify violence? ain't there nothing better to give? why fuck up the only chance to be yourself and really live? you tell me you're a working class loser, well what the fuck does that mean? is the weekly fight at the boozer gonna be the only action you've seen? are you gonna be one of the big boys, well, we've seen it all before muscles all akimbo as they boot down another door will you see yourself as the hero as you boot in another head when you're just a pathetic victim of the media you've been fed you're lost in your own self pity, you've bought the system's lie they box us up and sit pretty as we struggle with the knots they tie okay, so you're right about one thing, no-one's got the right to shit on you but what's the point of shitting on yourself, what's that gonna do? working class hero beats up middle class twit media labels, system's shit when it looks like the people could score a win the system makes sure that the boot goes in yeah it's the greatest working class rip off, oi, oi, oi just another fucking rip off, a fucking media ploy it's the greatest working class rip off, oi, oi, oi ain't it just a rip off, ain't it just a rip off, ain't it just a rip off, oi punk attacked the barriers of colour, class and creed but look at how it is right now, do you really think you're freed? punk once stood for freedom, not violence, greed and hate punk's got nothing to do with what you're trying to create anarchy, violence, chaos? you mindless fucking jerks can't you see you're talking about the way the system works throughout our bloody history force has been the game the message that you offer is just the fucking same you're puppets to the system with your mindless violent stance that's right you fuckers, sneer at us cos we say "give peace a chance" punk is dead you wankers, cos you killed it through and through in your violent world of chaos, what you gonna do? is top of the pops the way in which you show how much you care? you take off now to the usa and spread your message there? well mouth and trousers, sonny boy, never changed a thing the only thing that'll ever change will be the song you sing cos when you've bought your rolls royce car and your luxury penthouse flat you'll be looking down your nose and saying "punk, dear chap, what's that?" you'll be the working class hero with your middle class dream and the world will be the same as the world has always been punk's the people's music so you can stuff your ideas of class that's just the way the system keep you sitting on your arse class, class, class, that's all you fucking hear middle class, working class, i don't fucking care it's the greatest working class rip off, oi, oi, oi what a fucking rip off, oi, oi, oi it's the greatest human sell off, oi, oi, oi ain't it just a rip off, ain't it just a rip off, ain't it just a rip off, oi punk's the peoples music and i don't care where they're from black or white, punk or skin, there ain't no right or wrong we're all just human beings, some of us rotten, some of us good you can stuff your false divisions cos together i know we could beat the system, beat its rule ain't got no class, i ain't a fool beat the system, beat its law ain't got no religion cos i know there's more beat the system, beat its game ain't got no colour, we're all the same people, people, not colour, class or creed don't destroy the people, destroy their power and their greed
tired bored sad people, tired bored sad lives endless cars on endless roadways endless shopfronts with endless lies even the winners, even the punters, tight lipped packages, think it's bad can't imagine a revolution could deal with anything so sad it's all set up so you can't do it not let up so you don't make it all arranged so you can't have it all enclosed so you won't take it set in little pockets of isolation separated by regulation crushed for product in a rich man's passion relative ration for the ration nation tear a bit, smash a bit, cause a little pain that's a contribution then they build it up again fool yourself thinking it's a holyheld belief when all the time it's just another light relief oh boredom psychological stunt you never really feel it when you're up at the front it doesn't really matter where the hell it's going as long as everybody has the hot blood flowing.... excitement and thrills, will put off the ills radical frills, docility pills new wave, splash in the plan real music by dildo dan tired old discos, shame balam soddern modern christ, futurists again play the machine crank up the dream we're just what we seem know what i mean? but no-one can wipe out the last five years there's other ways of living than in supergloo pairs marry me darling? fuck off, creep! tired and lonely, life on the cheap didn't plan it, but now we're very happy another poor fucker drowns in its nappy bakunin and bollocks and fun and farts hit the right fantasy and come up the charts treat people like shit and that's what you get
chorus: don't want a life of lies and pretence don't want to play at attack and defense just want my own life, i want to be free so you can be you, and i can be me respectable businessman smart and secure eat the fat of the land that they robbed from the poor the butcher is smiling as he brings down the knife as he cuts up the meat, he thinks of the wife as eminent psychiatrists suffer paranoid fits the ones they call mad have to pick up the bits the preachers speaks calmly, says it's love that we lack while his imaginary dagger is held at our back chorus in bed you're the master or mistress, who cares? abusing each other as your work off your fears go climb a mountain, go fuck a scout avoidance of self is what it's about pretence and illusion to avoid who you are don't work on yourself, just polish the car switch on the telly afraid you might find that as well as a body you've also a mind cheap glossy surface to cover the lie cheap easy answers to the what, where and why media drivel, yet you still watch the screen life ain't for real, it's a magazine conned from the start but hang onto the lies a slave to the cathode ray paradise you don't want the world, you just want the pics media junkies, you'd die for a fix chorus so you say you'll regret it, well that's maybe a start but it's so fucking easy to act out a part say you'll reject it, but still toe the line conning yourself that you're doing just fine anarchy, freedom, more games to play? fight war, not wars? well it's something to say slogans and badges worn without thought instant identities so cheaply bought well freedom ain't product, it just isn't fun you're looking for peace your work's just begun fighting oppression, aggression and hate fighting warmongers before it's too late we've got to fight back to show that we care for so many years we've been silenced by fear our lives have been ruined by liars and fools the powerful and greedy who bind us with rules politicians and preachers who bind us with laws stolen our peace and given us wars they've used us as means to their own violent ends turned us against each other, made foes out of friends they've distorted, perverted, polluted our lives they've brainwashed the world with their sordid beliefs they seek to possess, control and corrupt if it's freedom we're after, they've got to be stopped
buy now, pay as you go buy now, say hello you can put a mortgage on your life to enter shoppers' paradise a trade-in for your dignity a lovely colour console tv to watch and cherish as the days slip by and dream of the things that money can buy brushed chrome shit, plastic crap my life and my vision is worth more than that plate glass ghetto, shopping spree i'm no fucking commodity lusting for objects, white wall refrigerator cut off your fingers and buy a vibrator get them while it lasts, your time is running out it's a new mink coat, that's what life's all about a new tank, a new bomb, awaits you in the store is life all that shallow that you're reaching out for more? start planning now for a family plot a satin-lined bunker where your corpses can rot well there's nothing for sale here, no day-glo gore and i ain't no waxed-up showroom whore i don't need carrots in front of my eyes man made pre-fab, polyester lies sexy glossy adverts left on my mat i live with my needs, i don't need that i don't need a yacht to take a cruise don't need a telephone in the loo won't barter my soul for a rip-joint sale excess is just another nouveau jail don't want to grow fat off the fat of the land or to choke on the greed of public command thirty years with one foot in the grave possession junkie, consumer slave if money buys freedom it's already spent your object's the subject of my contempt buy now, pay as you go buy now, say hello bye bye bye bye
12. RIVAL TRIBAL REBEL REVELS (PART 2)
cor blimey guvnor i'm the big 'un, cop an eyeful of this muscular arm being tough 'n' rough is my kind of fun but, of course i never do no harm ain't my fault i like cracking bones, gives me a funny kind of thrill i can't help smiling at the pathetic moans, when i go in for the kill tribal wars are raging, it's a battlefield on the street there's games to play and hell to pay when the rival tribal rebels meet why can't people just leave me be? can't help doing what i do i'll do anybody who ain't like me so forget your what, why or who i ain't got no purpose and i don't give a fuck i never asked for this life if you're looking for reasons you're out of luck i'll show you the point with my knife tribal wars are raging, no-one's safe out on their own the gangs are about and they scream and shout so you'd better not be caught alone i did it cos there ain't nothing else to do nowhere'll let me in it ain't my fault i want to hurt and screw so i've destroyed every place where i've been i had trouble at the local so they won't serve me there i just had to chivvy up this bloke left him with a smile cut from ear to ear but the bleeder never got the joke used to have a bird but i put her up the spout had to tell her where to get off well you can't blame me if i want to get about if you're a man you've gotta be tough i used to go down the cafe for tea but my boot got attacked by the door so now it ain't open for the likes of me and we're back on the streets like before tribal wars are raging, our heroes are standing tall but the truth of the matter, if you cut out the patter is that pride always comes before the fall they can stand on the corner with their violence and their hate stand there and fester 'til they've left it too late to realise it's themselves they've put their on the spot cos they've wasted the one and only life that they've got tribal wars are raging, everyone's acting out bad parts oi, hey big man, take a look at yourself it's in the mirror that the real war starts
chorus: if they drop a bomb on us, we fucking deserve it we know we got it coming, we fucking deserve it they got a comfy set up, they'll try and preserve it we had the early warning, we can sit and observe it sliding down guidelines, cradle to the grave all the willing saviours see that we behave everybody knows they're there, see them all around lots of little people who'll put you in the ground well, take a burning issue and stuff it up your arse they've fucked you with a furrowed brow shitting broken glass marching down the 'dilly to demonstrate again while the men who plan the holocaust are pissed out of their brain brain of pasty people, who'll bomb it all to fuck you can be a victim or they'll let you try your luck pass it on to others, ship it down the line leave the world in ruins, you know we've got the time chorus cop-outs look for motives....freudian analyst come on, mr horror, what do you make of this? won't find many people without their rationale any handy concept to hang upon the wall soldier's got his enemy, police have got the state family have home sweet home, ss got red tape mp's got his duty, priest has got his sin everybody finds a hole, to drop somebody in seeking out wisdom in the ironies of life weight up subtleties, fiddling with the ties no-one else decides for you, whether to or not you make an easy target if you're running on the spot chorus someone's been training, flexing their muscles getting in practice, irrelevant tussles given a march, or a quiet sunday demo they wait till the state put the finger on you peeping through a frown, your humanity in rags playing the loser till the sense of purpose sags they can deal with heroes, watch the bleeders run only your head keeps the target from the gun no-one else decides for you, whether to or not you make an easy target if you're running on the spot
feathers burn so easily, the cat is blinded in the garden last vision the lark is flame the cattle shed gives off the smell of sunday kitchen the gentle eye, the dispensable perfection before the flash takes two weeks food pile the sacks of earth and hide all of us here know it, we grew it fighting amongst ourselves, leaving bits of flesh on barbed wire a little blood on the floor locks and bars across the door well versed in violation our children beat each other in the garden our failure to accept the earth, we talk of love but push it to the edge push it to the edge this is no natural aggression composing death i am afraid for beauty when i see the fist the perfect hand that turns against itself the perfect hand that holds a gun or wields a butcher's blade or leads to death leads to death the used-up bull or incarcerates the hopeless fool or takes the forest with a single flame leaves the next an empty shell human kind condemns the hunting beast yet their own choice leaves behind such ragged meat the military dream of blood their sweet wine flowing in the veins of men who work towards our bloody end they fly enola gaily, give birth to this waiting...waiting give us the reality of our hatred, give the earth nothing melting, goats dead on the green, dying lambs bleating by the wire three last days on the earth, i lay down to die in the grass
we're looking for a better world, but what do we see? just hatred, poverty, aggression, misery so much money spent on war when three quarters of the world is so helplessly poor major general despair sits at his desk, planning a new mode of attack he's quite unconcerned about chance or risk the major general's a hard nut to crack oh yes, he designs a cruise missile, tactically sound, operationally ok while the starving crawl onto the deathpile they can't avoid their fate another day attack on the mind, but he calls it defence but i ask you again who's it for? do the starving millions who don't stand a chance hope to benefit by his stupid war? babies crippled with hunger before they could walk mothers with dry breasts cry dry tears and meanwhile major general despair gives a talk on increasing the war budget over the years how can they do it, these men of steel how can they plot destruction, pain? is it the only way they can feel by killing again and again? is it some part of themselves that has died that permits them to plan as they do? or is it us that is dead, do we simply hide from the responsibility to stop what they do? there's so many of us, yet we let them have their way as this moment they're plotting and planning we've got to rise up to take their power away to save the world that they're ruining they're destroying the world with their maggot-filled heads death, pain and mutilation they've got the responsibility of millions of dead yet they're still bent on destruction the generals and politicians who advocate war should be made to wade in the truth of it they should spend sleepless nights shivering with fear and by day time should crawl in the deathpit they'll find the truth of what they've done there festering corpses they and their kind made eyeless skulls that endlessly stare having seen the truth of military trade the earth was our home, the wind and the air the blue sky, the grass and the trees but these masters of war, what do they care? only sentiments, these it's our world but through violence they took it away took dignity, happiness, pride they took all the colours and changed them to grey with the bodies of millions that died they destroy real meaning through their stupid games make life a trial of fear they destroy what values we have with their aims make us feel it's wrong if we care well, we do care, it's our home they've been at it too long if it's a fight they want, it's beginning throughout history, we've been expected to sing their tired song but now it's our turn to lead the singing fight war, not wars, make peace, not war fight war, not wars, we know you've heard it before fight war, not wars, make peace, not war fight war, not wars, make love, not war 1-2-3-4 we don't want your fucking war