Black Friar's Union Of Thursday Night Anarchists lyrics

Artist	Bombs Over Providence
Album(s)	Liberty's Ugly Best Friend

Lyrics

I awoke so invincible the state indivisible hasn't had the chance to finish me yet
The force of law notwithstanding moans, groans and the sting of student loans
I hit the ground running
With subsidized funding laughing at the irony of the pub
Where we'll dine on the hands that feed
And pay the check by need according to ability
Presumed dead by the kings on whom we've fed
Smile quiet when we lift their wallets
Somewhere there's a tanker named condoleeza carving out its meager existence
Leaking out crude to the oceans, washing up on the banks just to trickle down
Tired and half-dead, walking in half-steps, shuffling home in the snow
We'll throw a short breath to the matron saint
Of the kids who wait and sitting on armed hands
Hey, what's that you say?
No one's listening anyway?
So let's just buy another round, get the platform down, and move the shadow cabinet along
What we do precedes our voice, we're not making any noise
So have your mouth concealed and keep your eyes peeled for a rock that'll do the same
This ain't no hit parade
And it's not a mess we've made
Nevermind what we'll do tomorrow night
Because where we come from it's called "playing dumb"
It'll get you what you need till your boss' back's turned
We'll drink from noon till nightmare
This self immolation, part of our recreation, adheres to our functional paradigm
No better way to spot a comrade; we rely on vino veritas
Back at the homestead, loaded and well-fed
We'll yearn for a greater sustenance:
Fights till light about laws and rights out of sight
And what we'll do when the fires smolder
This doesn't look like grub st
Where's my cafe voltaire?
I never read it this way, subversion isn't the same
Here's to accounting for inherent failure
Raise your glass to black masks
Pay respects to efforts past
Without danger, we ask, what merits the task of protecting dead, dry, blue eyes?
One more round for the broken-hearted
Called a movement and it barely started
We're what dissent is about
We might scream and lash out
But not until we've sung our pict song

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