Why this? Because it’s the middle of the night. Because my head is throbbing and I’m getting sick. Because I’m laughing on the inside after being told by anonymous jokers that I don’t care about things simply because I’m disenchanted by US political process and options after 18 years of voting and playing the game religiously. Because I think it’s absolutely hilarious that someone would think I was hurting 24 Hour Party Pooper’s “credibility” by stating as much. Because I’m frustrated with myself for taking such a boiler-plate comment to heart in any degree. Because it’s the middle of the night and if I wait any longer I’ll talk myself out of it.
Crass got it right more often than they got it wrong.
“Boring fucking politics that’ll get us all shot, Left wing, right wing, you can stuff the lot.”
–“White Punks On Hope”
“I never set out to profit from another, Those smarmy bastards would steal from their mother. They’ve got the lot, that’s what they want you to think, Read between the lines, you’ll see the missing link.”
-“I Ain’t Thick It’s Just A Trick”
“ Fuck the politically minded, here’s something I want to say, About the state of nation, the way it treats us today. At school they give you shit, drop you in the pit, You try, you try, you try to get out, but you can’t because they’ve fucked you about. Then you’re a prime example of how they must not be, This is just a sample of what they’ve done to you and me.“
-“Do They Owe Us A Living?”
(Note: This song, in particular, has always grated against my independently-minded ways but these lyrics are priceless and resonant.)
This is positively the last politically charged post on this issue you’ll get from me until closer to the presidential general election. At least for now, this issue is dead.
MP3: Crass-White Punks On Hope
MP3: Crass-I Ain’t Thick, It’s Just A Trick
MP3: Crass-Do They Owe Us A Living?
24hourpartypooper.com 
They said they only wanted well-behaved boys, do they think guitars and microphones are just fucking toys?
I handn’t heard a note of Crass in 20 years. Sounds better than ever.
I am not he, nor master, nor lord,
No crown to wear, no cross to bear in stations.
I am not he, nor shall be, warlord of nations.
These heroes have run before me,
Now dead upon the flesh piles, see?
Waiting for their promised resurrection, there is none.
Nothing but the marker, crown or cross, in stone upon these graves
Promise of the ribbon was all it took,
Where only the strap would leave it’s mark upon these slaves.
What flag to thrust into this flesh
Rag, bandage, mop in their flowing death.
Taken aside, they were pointed a way, for god, queen and country,
Now in silence they lie.
They ran beside these masters, children of sorrow,
As slaves to that trilogy they had no future.
They believed in democracy, freedom of speech,
Yet dead on the flesh piles
I hear no breath, I hear no hope, no whisper of faith
From those who have died for some others’ privilege.
Out from your palaces, princes and queens,
Out from your churches, you clergy, you christs,
I’ll neither live nor die for your dreams.
I’ll make no subscription to your paradise.
I’ll make no subscription to your paradise.
I’ll make no subscription to your paradise.
I’LL MAKE NO SUBSCRIPTION TO YOUR PARADISE….