Instrumenter
Ensembles
Genres
Komponister
Udøvende kunstnere

Tekster: Million Dead. Other. Father My Father.


Father my father, well what have you left for me?
What am I to make of this convoluted legacy?
You raised me, ingrained me
Led me to believe that the world had some order
A bedrock of honesty
With this naive outlook in my mind
Imagine then my profound suprise when my eyes were opened to the reality -
A world built on half-truths and Christian hypocrisy
Where left hands are wrung to deplore all our poverties
While right hands dig shallow graves to bury the meek
What have we learned?
"Do as we say. not as we do and don't ask"
Like the students at the Sorbonne in sixty-eight
I've got a conundrum
I and the letter of the law are agreed
But the spirit's not with us in working until
"Everyone has everything they need"
I know what I must look like -
Some kind of revolutionary -
But I'm just trying to set some things straight
To salvage that honesty
Father, I've tried to follow you in what you say and what you do
Father, I've always followed you
I'm everything you wanted me to be
Million Dead