BAD MISSIONAIRIES.

I saw you smashing up shop windows
Said you're opposing World Trade
Nice to see well reasoned debate
Overturned by mob instinct
A protest funded by ya parents
Yer Coffee's from Columbia
Switch on your Malaysian PC
Organise by Internet

Be hated for what you are
Rather than loved for what you're not
You're nowhere near the plot

Join the straight-edge missionaries
sweat shop clad and supping Coke
they say my freedom of choice is wrong
fascism snowballs from less
Hail the anti-road protester,
How d'ya get from a to b?
Haven't seen ya on a donkey,
Haven't yet waved a palm leaf.

Be hated for what you are
Rather than loved for what you're not
You're nowhere near the plot

Hey, Hey, come and get me
I won't be converted by some bad missionary x2

COMFORT, (FOR THE SAKE OF ANY OTHER KIND OF LOVE)

Well we got you and we want you and we need you cos yer standing there
Now to sell you some product
Ideally you are aged somewhere between your birth and death
And we don't care if you work or not
Yer fun and yer well sussed
You drive or get the bus
You understand that rules of acceptance
are made for smashing up
so pin yerselves to us
You fulfill our consumer profile

Now Targets need weapons, (I'm sure you'll agree)
We're firing for the future , cos all else is passe
I guarantee a healthy, happy time for you if you just

Trust us with your hard earned money
(Comfort for the sake of any other kind of love)

Yer devalued and down-marketed to fit into a shoebox
Then yer pushed into a hole that doesn't fit
Undermined and dumbed forever downwards till yer beaten
Desensitised, a paranoiac wreck
The punter's always shite
Ya worry bout yer life
Inferiority breeding contempt
Yer told yer worthless shit
So much you believe it
You fulfill our consumer profile

Someday, you're gonna get excited about something you don't need
Someday you're gonna get delighted with something you don't need.

DARREN

"My name is Darren and i am seventeen and i play for a group called 'Slapper' and
we're still at school so my dad he gave us three hundred quid to make a demo and
we sent the demo along to Sas who works at Scared Records. she rang the house
when I was at school and told me mum she thought that we were 'cool' and she
wanted to see us live, (but we've never ever played live). So I sent a tape to the
'Jug of Ale' and the promoter he called me the very next day saying "come and
play on the ninth", so we went and played on the ninth.

"We're so lucky"

"My name is Sas, (that's sweet as sugar), I've got a car, expense account and
wonderbra to make my tit's look lovely. I work so hard to make a living, it's so
tiring, (but very giving), I keep my keys here in my hand when I go out to nab a band"

"I'm so lucky"

Quick impression of Darren's band 'Slapper' follows

Then we're privy to a radio interview offering both sides of what ensues. Make up yer own minds, you lucky, lucky people.

FOREVER BLESSED

Dear Angel of hopeless causes, don't work so hard you need a rest
Just let us turn upon ourselves
Here comes the culture filter, panning for gems amongst the scraps
The treasure's been buried with the maps

Working over the moral code
We are forever stressed
Working over the moral code
And thus forever blessed

Priorities travel third class while short-term comfort drives the train
Last up to bed please pull the chain
Watching our dirty hatreds spinning around in the machine
Smearing home truths with vaseline
To slip down easy

Working over the moral code
We are forever stressed
Working over the status quo
And thus forever blessed

Forever etc etc

GOTCHA, GOTCHA SUCKA
(well thank you Mr Gates, thanks a bunch)

Welcome to the virtual twilight zone
A plastic shaven haven for the terminally alone
While wordless books line cultureÕs bins
Sluice Gates vomits angel's wings
Silent harpies pluck out yer square eyes
Misplaced duty shrinking cyber-minds
"Here's virtual pets for OAP's", a conscience salved in kind
Behold the bailiffs for yer brain.
The superhighway's pitted lanes
Engendered by some sexless, artless myth
It's every thing you ever said
And every thought you put to bed

Oh, gotcha, gotcha sucka and we're holding tight
Gotcha, gotcha sucka it's a ling good- night
Gotcha, gotcha sucka with yer whey-faced pleas
Gotcha, gotcha sucka now on yer knees

A thousand useless days of worthless facts
Busting headed monsters shunning all social contacts
(Asimple journey to the bar,
a red-faced search for mis-placed words,
A speck of dust behind the contact lens)
Embracing what you can't control
You lick the creator's arsehole

Do you feel big, is your power in place
Nerve ends frozen, stuck in cyber-space
Yer master of what controls you
(The basic paradox of truth
Is that everybody wants to swallow lies)
And time whirls slowly in it's void
Orbiting the paranoid
Oh, gotcha.

WE ARE GORGEOUS

Terminal lip, straight from the hip
Kicking the dicks cos we're gorgeous GORGEOUS
Seminal schtick, audible gyp
Chips on our shoulders, we're gorgeous GORGEOUS

Forget mis-information,
statistical fornication
Hogwash, bullshit,
moonshine half-wits
We are the panacea
that you put in yer ears
Underlining, clarifying

The needle up the backside
To re-invert the downside
Soundbite culture,
Luncheon Vultures
The patters of the pockets
The strokers of the wallets
Patronisers, we'll advise ya.

A story without end
To drive you round The Bends
where imitation's gang-raped flattery
Redundant and bereft
Drawing a final breath
Is that acceptable?
'OK? Consumer'
We refute your methods
We make our own weapons
We're GORGEOUS

LOVELY BASTARD
(for Alanis and all her copycats)

"Dear diary, this is the story of my day
I'm so very young and my opinion's holding sway
I've heard enough of grief
To suspend my lyrics with belief
And all men are bastards
Your parent's don't understand you
Stamp my feet and shake my hair
I'm gonna have that feller over there"

"You're lovely, you bastard.
The manners of a pig
You're lovely, you bastard
Your arse is talking BIG"

"Dear diary, please tell me why it's so messed up
Some days i'm full of hate, and others, full of love
I can't apportion blame
People are all the same
And hey, the worlds an uncool place
I'll ram Green issues in your face
Tonight I see that jerk I met
His car's a monster, so's his dick"

"Dear diary, I hate you but I love you too
Dear diary, I just can't wait to finish school,
Be taken seriously,
I can't take the people who made me,
They filled my head with nonsense
And offered me a conscience
Hold me tight and say you care
Whilst messing with my underwear"

POWDERBURNS

Today I lived beyond my terms
And opened up a can of worms
I swallowed hard, but not enough
To shift this mass of hopelessness
I'm feeding.
The alcohol supends belief
In darker corners out of reach
Of probing logic,
Knocking back the hollow years
I smash the glass

Every powderburn's a lesson that's un-learnt
An overview, blurred until
The damage done is twice the fun
Of any powderburn

Each day you re-invent yourself
As mother, daughter, Holy Ghost
bulging pockets stuffed with friends
That don't exist but love you
Most of all, the boxes in your mind
To dip into when you are bored
Of channel surfing humankind
For an attention overload

You say positive, I say negative
We're wired up wrong
To a grim inevitable

OUT OF SEASON

The best is yet to come
The future holds no compromise
Nostalgia is a lie
We might as well put out our eyes
Empty thrills are hollow laughter
Fuelled by fear of hereinafter
The four horsemen of apoplexy

Kick down all yer idols and refute yer gods
A word and a blow
A rhyme and reason
Bite the hand that feeds the lotus eater
Passive living chic
is outta season

Open up the stable door
To see if the horse is going to bolt
The clouds hung out to dry
We've whipped the silver linings out
Fix the leak in every pipe dream
Bust a gut to vent off your spleen
What do you want for yer epitaph
("I'm with stupid")

Kick down all yer idols and refute yer gods etc

He said, "I love you", she said, "nor me"
Cos the crotch of the matter was the real beef,
Lovers corner markets perpetuating lies

The record man thinks kids have no scruples
Here's tunes about drugs and hacking into computers
Sociology is dead, its now PR
Selling selling

Oh, Come and have a go if you think you're hard enough, salesman
We're colour coded odour eaters for a trainer nation
Sanitising sweat, it's the safest bet that is always home and hosed
Documentary soaps, downing periscope, hiding from the real dirt

She loves him for his mind not what he looks like
He dresses up smart cos it makes him feel right
Ten pints down the line we all look like film stars
Where's me Oscar?

Oh, come and have a go if ya think yer hard enough, salesman etc

There is no purpose left
(What do you mean?)
I mean I'm sick of wasting every waking breath
On words that are not heard
(Your lips moved)
Nothing grows on stony ground, it's strictly for the birds

We need words
So simple
Break down every syllable
Throw them all against the wall

I've nothing to tell you
I don't care
And I'm the greatest liar alive
We take what we're given
It's enough
And I'm the greatest liar alive

I wanted to make art
(Oh yeah, what from?)
We might as well have stuck the horse behind the cart
The distance that we've come
(And back again)
The words keep buttoned but the sentiment has come undone

Legalise all drugs
And keep the punters off their minds-
Patenting our leisure time

But still
I've nothing to tell you
I don't care
And I'm the greatest liar alive
We take what we're given
It's enough
And I'm the greatest liar alive

We are the prodigal scum
Kicked out of Heaven, every one.
Tweaking the nipples of Humanity,
Dropping our trousers at reality.
We are the Gaderene Swine
Casting our pearls before time
Making sure all that is risible
Naffs off to join the choir invisible

Kick against the pricks
Corrupting just for kicks
Righteous scumbags live forever
Steaming out of Hell
Love at second smell
Prodigal scum live forevermore

We are but grist to the mill
Brokering cures for all ills
Stripping the rind from all the senseless hides
Drawing down the moon and pushing back the tide

It's cankerous and rancouress
Gangrened, festering gob of pus
It's specious and it's devious
It's bloodless and it's rudderless
A spinning bate of twisted hate
The nag left at the starting gate

I hate the world and everything that's in it

It's dissolute and absolute
As vacant as it is astute
It scratches scabs and picks at sores
Narcissus, blinded, on all fours
The victor in all bloody war
The oldest and the best of whores

I hate the fucking world and everything that's in it.

The other night I dreamt I shared a smoke
With the father and the son and the holy ghost
And some dead pop stars dropped in for a chat
Sid looked great-he'd put on weight
Morrison was balding at an alarming rate
And Joplin could not get in through the door
I asked if they'd regretted all that they'd partaken
-if they'd a message for the folks back home..

Kids-don't be like me, I had fun ya see
Life's too short to be sanctimonious

I saw Hank with Mr Sheen
Keeping Johnny Cash's seat clean
Ready for the day he walks that line
I saw Kobain in a cap
working limbo's launder-o-mat
Complaining of a nose bleed he'd just had
John Lennon looked in and he said "Tell all the housewives
that when they're cookin tea give peas a chance"

and Kids don't be like me....etc

Jehovah's nitnurse came to town
and soon had all our trousers down
she checked the lot
seems my privacy's for sale
just like jesus I've got dirt beneath my nails
sunday-raining no fun day
homework get done day
praise ye the bored

Hair today and god tomorrow
scrub that crutch
get me ready for the big guy (get me out of this shit-nurse)
swear by mouthwash
scrubbed by demons
there's no reason
to share my bathwater with jehovah's nitnurse now

I blew my horn outside yer wall
still ya refused to play ball
nothing came down
the prodigal son washed his feet
in the khazi for a treat
don't they smell sweet?
scrub day-hairs round the tub day
aye, there's the rub day
hypocrites all

Hair today etc

The hopes and dreams of all creation
met one day at the coach station
for a junket to the sea-some relaxation
trouble was, the stops got mixed up
all the dreams got themselves picked up
by a charabanc containing all life's grief
when, down the road, the mistake had been noticed,
with shoulder's shrugged and corks unplugged
the songs started flowing

Let's forget the error of our ways and keep on sinning
history repeats on ITV, we'll keep on winning
till the day we die.

Love and Hate and Tears and Laughter
pondered Camus versus Sartre
Greed nicked all the sandwiches and puked on Want
Hope went up to ask the driver where they were bound
She smiled and said, We're driving to distraction

Let's forget the error of our ways etc

We seem to work on the assumption that
food is not just for consumption
It's a tool, a weapon to enforce the rule
that human life means shit..

The first world plays the stern father
If yer so hungry why not snack upon yer dead
come on sonny use yer head
yer not fit to beg for what we throw away.

Sick harvest, open wide
We'll spit our crumbs inside yer mouths
Sick harvest -drink yer tears.
Only the wrong will survive

Stuff yer face on modified food
Free enterprises novices can kill us all
Re-activating poison genes
And kids still learn that cows are fed on grass..

Sick Harvest etc