Babylon is Dead
Hey! Hey! Babylon is Dead! Hey! Hey! Babylon is Dead! Hey! Hey! Babylon is Dead! Hey! Hey! Babylon is Dead! Hey! Hey! Babylon is Dead! Hey! Hey! Babylon is Dead! Hey! Hey! Babylon is Dead! Hey! Hey! Babylon is Dead! My Generation: half British / half Babylonian. We will die of decadence just like the Greeks and the Romans before us And everybody else that ever believed That you can do whatever you want without consequence We will run naked to the forests from God when He asks us "What have you done?" Babies were crying and Jesus was dying on a cross Whilst we were all looking out for Number One Following our hearts and being true to ourselves Because the whole damn world revolves around the mind of the decadent westerner Godless, meaningless culture Loveless, selfish vulture Lustre for the flesh of the living and the dead But the meat comes in packages so you never have to stare her in the face Sacrifice the girls to your semen Sacrifice your children to your independence and freedom Hey! Hey! Babylon is Dead! Woe to you Babylon, because you have no minds of your own anymore. You think you’re doing what you want to, but you’re not You’re doing what they told you to do Drinking what they told you to drink And screwing who they told you to screw You and I have been pacified by liars and cheats Who are getting rich quick on our blood And the blood of our children And our children’s children Whilst we choke on the ashes of our stupid mistakes Perverted zombies are good for the economy And if we all lived righteously the economy would collapse So wake up zombies God will surely judge Babylon and Britain for all of this crap Hey! Hey! Babylon is Dead! x99 Ugly Divorce We divorced ourselves from God and became gods ourselves Picked up His crown and put it down on our heads Looking all serious, as though it were we who were betrayed We filled up our bellies on whatever He had made We are the illegitimate pretenders to the throne of blood Give any man more power - see the more damage he does But if you can't trust yourself then, tell me, who can you trust? We took deity on credit from the people who knew us They said that we out-grew Him. That we'd be happier without Him They said that He was holding us back from all of the action They said we could have whatever we wanted or imagined We're gods, with a lower case "g", on plastic But an ugly divorce is like a thorn in your pancreas You don't want to talk about it for a long time afterward You just want to drink, and smoke, and get on with your life Chase your new horizons and sleep around for a while So, to talk about God is weird and reprehensible We don’t talk about the past or the future wherever possible But to use God’s name as a cuss word is fine Natural as breathing to us most of the time We unchained ourselves from the sun and floated off into space Turns out Galileo was wrong in the first place We’re gods with a lower case "g" The universe revolves around me The consumer The kings and queens of Babylonia We unhinged ourselves from every context and grew imaginary wings And crowned ourselves the centre of all things We divorced ourselves from God and became gods ourselves And we stopped giving a damn about anybody else Naturally my dear it follows that you don’t care for me And I don’t care for you very much either We are the illegitimate children of nothing With nothing left to do but try and prove that we mean something Its survival of the fittest Its every man for himself Let the weak fall by the wayside Let the dying go to hell Because now we are only worth as much as we are rich Or beautiful Or useful Or some such thing else We have no innate value in (and of) ourselves The identity crisis! The beauty complex! We used to be equals from the same Intelligence Happy families.. Squabbling brothers and sisters Then we divorced and disconnected from each other There is no basis for equality here We divorced ourselves from all absolute ethics There’s no basis for human rights because morality is relative Its survival of the fittest Its every man for himself Let the weak fall by the wayside Let the dying go to hell We made ourselves gods with a lower case "g" And became kind of worthless Eventually We divorced ourselves from God and became gods ourselves Drunken sack of bones at the bottom of the stairs Bitter and alone Singing "Damn it all to hell. All my dreams have turned into nightmares…" Suckers! Suckers lined up on a Babylon chain gang… O high society Founded on the self Where selfishness was the highest value that anyone ever felt We reassured each other "You got to look out for Number One…" "Follow all your dreams man, before they’re all gone…" So here in the land of the free It’s weird that we do what we’re told like we’re slaves on a chain gang We only want what they tell us to be wanting And we always chase whatever they tell us to be chasing Suckers lined up on a Babylon chain gang… Sex is the opium of the people And this is the most religious people of them all We set up idols everywhere we go Every page Every channel Every street Every shop and every home Television Pay - rise Alcohol New car Friday night Younger flesh Weed Porn Bigger breasts Clearer skin Property ladder 50% extra free Or whatever is your weakness And so on, endlessly Here in the middle of a million idols and anaesthetics We’ve become completely pacified Completely apathetic You could take every bit of dignity from us and we wouldn’t even notice Because we’re too busy chasing the desires hung in front of our noses Suckers lined up on a Babylon chain gang… Where self centeredness is the ultimate principle Those who can gain from others’ losses will do so It’s simple It’s a game It’s Monopoly It’s a race It’s the economy It’s illegitimate gods competing for significance So drink more and think less - it’s good for the economy O.C.D. stress is good for the economy Spend yourselves into the red and pay it back with interest And do whatever the heck else is good for the economy We’re dogs fetching sticks for thieves We’re suckers chasing fallacies In the name of somebody else’s money We do whatever we’re told And we somehow still believe that we’re masters of our own lives gods - with a lower case "g" Suckers lined up on a Babylon chain gang… The Love Songs of My Generation Lovers, O lovers Is anyone for real? Sisters and brothers I’m tired of the spinning wheel So we put on our berets and became revolutionaries Incensed by the enslavement of the masses by a few mercenaries But the truth hits harder than our fears… We’re enslaving each other - there is no "us & them" here Show me one good woman Show me one good man I’ll show you a trap door full of secrets and corpses We became gods - every man for himself We’re not givers - we’re takers We’re not lovers - we’re consumers Sex is like food to us - pure sensory pleasure Divorced from all human relational endeavour People are disposable cameras We take the nice memories and throw away the carcass forever Lovers, O lovers Is anyone for real? Sisters and brothers I’m tired of the spinning wheel Give me expensive, spray - on love potions Give me an R ‘n’ B song to focus on Give me a fantasy Give me divorce Is this it? Do we have a good thing going on? You chewed me all up just to prove your own worth A desirable product and a handsome consumer We’re all washed up We divorced ourselves from God And we’ve got no worth in particular I swallowed you down for plain simple pleasure Since you don’t have any innate value either Love is consumerism and you’re a product for social, emotional and physical satisfaction Sometimes we’re the product Sometimes the consumer Sometimes the slave And sometimes the master Mostly we’re both at once Which is why all the love songs of my generation mean nothing Lovers, O lovers Is anyone for real? Sisters and brothers I’m tired of the spinning wheel We say we’re free We define our own relational moralities But then we all end up doing the same thing Wake up zombies Our sexual roles have been defined by the media in the interest of the economy And power And the selfish desires of people Love of the self isn’t love, actually The love songs of my generation mean nothing Hollow gods Halloween pumpkins Male - Consumer - Pervert In this place these terms have become interchangeable Female - Product - Whore Get me out of the cattle market I can’t take it anymore O Lord! I’m Bleeding! O Lord We coughed our lungs into the sky Poured contempt into the sea Sucked each others’ bones dry And broke apart like dead leaves O Lord I’m bleeding I’m bleeding real good No reason You should give a damn in heaven above But O When I look down I see I’m bleeding Your blood Jesus We turned Your name into a curse In every corner of the earth You’re the great unspeakable offence Never to be spoken of again O Lord I’m bleeding I’m bleeding real good No reason You should give a damn in heaven above But O When I look down I see I’m bleeding Your blood O Lord We wouldn’t die for a good man We wouldn’t suffer for anyone We wouldn’t give up anything For anything less than ourselves O Lord I’m bleeding I’m bleeding real good No reason You should give a damn in heaven above But O When I look down I see I’m bleeding Your blood Jesus We left behind what You said Loved ourselves more than anything else Till the last of the living were dead And the dead ruled the face of the earth O Lord I’m bleeding I’m bleeding real good No reason You should give a damn in heaven above But O When I look down I see I’m bleeding Your blood You know I wouldn’t have given up nothing for You, or anyone else Jesus, I wonder Why would You bleed Your blood for us? Jesus, I wonder Why would You bleed Your blood for us?
