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The Hour of Action

by OPTION

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about

WE ARE ALL AFRAID
we just try to survive, hand to mouth to credit card
the market makes us free but the bankers become prison guards
crushed beneath the weight of this behemoth called the state
our basic needs consumed by fascist appetites and racist hate
we hold the heavy hammer to beat ploughshares into bombs
the anvil rings, the drums of war roll on
in a state of constant crisis there's no room for education
now war is just a keystroke but I can't spell annihilation
we are all afraid, but our fear can take us so many different ways
and we all have hands, they give us so much power to command
to crush the weak or raise them up
to embrace a future built on love
but we've seen the truth with our own eyes
divide and conquer, spreading lies
they'll go to any lengths to turn the people on themselves
but through solidarity our fear can be transformed to strength of will
now is the time
so make your choice
but whatever you choose they'll come for you
rise up or be silent
with fist or with outstretched hand
the future is in your hands
PEOPLE ASK ME QUESTIONS
people always ask me questions
"What you doing with your time?"
I ain't doing nothing
and I'm getting along just fine
people always ask me questions
"What you doing with your mind?"
I got no motivation so I ain't doing shit
what would it matter even if I did?
people always ask me questions
and everybody's got the answers
but I was late for class
people always tell me
the way you do it's just too crass
but you know that I can't help it if the
only words I know are shit fuck piss cunt
you're the one that taught them to me
so isn't this what you want?
the things I learned in school:
people are shit and systems don't work,
run out the back door before you get hit
if you wanna get up you put someone else down
the one who can take it is the one with crown
because it's dog eat dog eat dog eat dog eat...
now all my friends are having children
maybe I should have some too
children are the future or haven't you heard?
it's too late for me and you
we're already part of the system so just sit back and let it happen to you
when I was a boy I had so many dreams
I'd be an astronaut in a rocket made of cream
I'd be a politician teaching children moral lessons
or I'd be an architect building schools and prisons
I'd be a big rock star with a shining gold guitar
and I'd captivate the masses with my penetrating visions
of a world with iron walls so you can't hear the screams
oh yes when I was a boy I had so many dreams
well now I am a man but I don't know what that means
and it just ain't no fun to be stuck in between
fools and wise men, drooling lunatics and pious hens,
assassins, doctors, pigs and prophets, torturers and liars
so if nothing seems to mean much now perhaps that means it never did
But it all seemed to mean so much when I was a kid
yes when I was a boy I had so many dreams but none of them came true
THE FRONT PAGE
I make myself sick in the morning reading the paper
maybe it's time I finally wrote them a letter
"Dear racist ignorant violent system, I'm most disappointed in you."
I just can't believe the things I read in your pages
"Who let these black people out of their cages?"
"The state of this nation is simply outrageous"
"And what are all these muslims and jews doing here?
spreading their dogma, a culture of fear"
"If we close up the borders they'll just disappear"
but when the anger boils over and I take the streets
they're empty, why's it so quiet? where'd everyone go?
home to watch the new TV show about the end of the world
I lie awake in the evening, unable to sleep
too frightened to dream or even to hope
that tomorrow will be better than today
I go for a walk to try to regain control
and that strange knot of tension in my stomach takes hold
as my vision of the future begins to unfold
it all happened so fast that it doesn't seem real
and I can't clear my head of the things left unsaid
because I'm too scared to say them
and you're too scared to hear them
we're consumed by the fear that somebody might listen
and the books left unread by my bedside start screaming
"Someone's succeeding while the system is failing us all"
so I sit in my kitchen with its greasy white walls
my cracked coffee mug filled with nothing at all
and stare out at the rain beginning to fall
while the rest of the people still live with the lies
told by informants wearing government ties
waiting around for the next big surprise
and when we finally admit that we've all been complicit
will the structures of power begin to forgive us?
what about the walls that we've built to divide us?
will they fall when we recognize the hatred inside us all?
the business page says that the market is falling
but the rent just keeps rising, who are they fooling?
someone's succeeding while the system is failing us all
but the eviction notice offers a number to call
and now I'm sitting back here with a couple of beers
and a couple of friends, waiting for the end
a knock on the door, but is it the law?
or the boot to the head that I've been waiting for?
so now on the outside we live on the run
hiding in basements from the government guns
waiting in vain for our turn to come
the storm is raging outside
we need a new place to hide
but it's warm in here by your side
FOUR MORE YEARS
in vying for the candidates we stumble
while tripping over the earth as it crumbles
the doting public perilously hangs on every word politicians say
no matter how much their words fumble
keep walking on the edge of a razor
while searching desperately for the next savior
the unforgiving cycle of history
secret wars while stock markets soar, it’s all the same
rely on government for transparency
but they say keep moving along, nothing here to see
sex scandals, war room banter, how much can we fucking handle
watch it all play out on TV
basking in the light of celebrity
while living in the lap of hegemony
shielded from the public eye; decision-making based on diatribes
it’s all the same
cult of personality, political celebrity
just another band at the top of the charts
just another brand in the oval office
so now it's four more years of torture, deportation
four more years of indiscriminate surveillance
four more years of politics for profit
four more years and I don't know how to stop it
so here we are awaiting another suggestion
but are we asking the right questions?
critiques based on the bare assumption that it’s all an inevitable part of consumption
who is to blame?
I remember being a happy child in 1983
the first thing I remember, my last happy memory
before I learned to see the truth, November 1984
my mother by the radio, weeping on the kitchen floor
but the money trickled down, and they never came for me
so I learned to swear my oaths by christ from watching mtv
and like a proper little jewish boy the shame and guilt set in
all the anger, the frustration, I can still remember it
you treat history as a contract, but I never signed my name
the politics of past and future, truth and lies, it's all a game
the joke's on you, shit fucking cowards
fooled by fairy tales of power
the rich won't give up anything
the people ask for change so you drop a quarter in our cup
while privatized angels sing of golden death from above
shitting money down the toilet to the cesspool where we live
they've fooled everyone
and now we see the fascist face of unprecedented tyranny
you think this came from nowhere? can't you see the continuity?
we can't ignore the past eight years, laid the foundation for what we've got
worried about wall street in the white house, well who fucking bailed them out?
you want established power and money out? what the fuck you think you got?
more of the same
so it's four more years of genocidal foreign policy
four more years of capitalist hegemony
four more years of lies, the audacity of shit,
there can be no 'hope' in government
THE SHOW GOES ON
the past is gone, the future holds nothing but the prospect of growing old
what happens in between is a mystery never solved
no man's land or limbo, is it boredom unrelieved?
every moment is a lesson if you know the way to listen
the confession of our sins, the truth of our submission
the sublime becomes coercion, the ineffable made lifeless
once the poem's down on paper then it's already escaped us
so stop and look around
so strange these lives we lead as if by halter down these roads
or at least we think we lead, but we're following the beasts
the better nature we've abandoned to instinct and inspection
by inspectors holding clipboards with our futures held to ransom
the wisdom of the past become an obstacle to progress
the bugbears of our history swept aside as time goes on
because the show must go on
I recall the revelation that I live within the state
and a symbol of corrupt ideals claims the right to choose my fate
but a man is not a symbol and this moment is my own
ANOTHER OPTION
if there's nothing more than this then every word must serve
if a thousand sheep unite, the wolves at last must starve
if the old world falls like night, comes a new world with the sun
but should it fail to rise, the sheep must wolves themselves become
but the truth just makes us frightened
so we ask another question: "What's it mean to be free?"
the answer brings no satisfaction
another separation, if we could just transcend the nation
another empty notion
we need another option
action
another lock, another key, another door slammed shut
while outside another bonfire burns, an alternative to what?
an alternative to the easy score?
years of hunting, years of war,
years of life we've given up but we don't know what for
do we burn our home in the family's name?
the arguments start to sound the same
the love, the joy, the whole fucking point, consumed within the flame
years of groping blindly while the band played on behind us
we had to feel our way through hell but now the blindfold's coming off
so I can see the rocket's glare, the blood-red fireworks of eden
see this cold and lonely paradise by the light of burning buildings
and I always hated you because you didn't have the answers
but now I finally understand that some lessons can't be taught
a useless consolation, bought and sold by our tradition
another empty notion
we need another option
ACTION

credits

released January 1, 1984

Recorded January 2018 by Will Killingsworth at Dead Air Studios

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OPTION Boston, Massachusetts

Sam - Guitar and Vox

Max - Drums

Boring Dan - Bass and Vox

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