One day, searching for lyric inspiration, I didn’t need to look any further than my guitar case. The bumper stickers I’d plastered it with over the years suddenly seemed to fit into one criticising theme, like lines in a cynical singalong. Each had screamed to me from their giftshop shelves, and buying them was my chance to share these enlightening ideas with the world as they’d pass by the observant eyes of passersby: airport baggage handlers, my busker’s audience, et cetera. But those giftshops were only selling revolution, diffusing the drive for change without actually moving the world closer to fixing its bullshit. The words were stuck dormant on my dusty guitar case, needing to be re-awoken by a bit of recreational song-writing, re-creating the revolutionary thoughts. As I wrote, other bumper stickers I myself had passed by arose from my memory and were added to the page. I filled in the blanks, tweaked the words to rhyme, and invented my own bumper sticker material, and before I knew it I had a song to scream. Now, whenever I feel this gawdamn modern society deserves a shout in the face, I pick up my guitar, check that no one’s within earshot, and yell this anthem at the top of my lungs. A passionate 4 minutes of revolution for one… all I need to calm my rage for a few weeks. It’s tough to enjoy every-day First World luxuries when all I can think of are the hidden costs: the suffering of exploited foreigners and environments. Honk if you’re also guilty by demand. Streak if you’re also perpetuating textile industry abuse. You can no longer claim “I didn’t know!”
lyrics
Only when the last tree’s been cut,
And the last river’s been poisoned and the last fish has been caught,
Will we realize we cannot eat money,
Can’t eat your debit account, can’t eat your insurance policy,
You can’t eat your tax credits, no
I’d like to see you build a home,
Out of Maxi-Pads and Styrofoam,
And see how it long it stands alone after rains have come
And the wind has blown,
Can’t wait for nachos & dip
Made of hand sanitizer and computer chips,
Would you put it past your lips?
‘Cuz it’s all you’ll have when the world goes to shit
Fighting for peace is like fucking for chastity,
It makes no sense to me,
But it sure makes cents for the aristocracy,
It’ll be great to see our schools get all the money,
And the poor ol’ military will have to hold a bakesale to buy artillery
Only when the last tree’s been cut,
And the last river’s been poisoned and the last fish has been caught,
Will we realize we cannot eat money,
Can’t eat your debit account, can’t eat your insurance policy,
You can’t eat your tax credits, no!
God said to me, “Hey man,
What part of ‘thou shalt not kill’ didn’t you understand?
You’re guilty by demand”,
How many Arabs-per-gallon does it take to run your Dodge Caravan?
How many suicides buried under India-dirt does it take to make your cotton t-shirt?
How much hate does it take to fuel a war?
A war for fuel, fuel for more,
From ceiling to floor in your grocery store,
Everything brought to you by the pain of the poor,
Pain of the poor
You’re so hungry (x4) for that fuckin’ money,
But you don’t know (x4) what real hunger is, no!
My baby asked me, “Daddy, what colour were the trees?”
I said, “I think they were green”,
She said, “That’s the colour that I’ve never seen”,
My kid asked me, “Pops, why is the sky red?”
I said, “We didn’t want to walk, so we killed the world instead,
We didn’t care, and now we’re in a living hell…
At least the War on Environment went well”
Fort Mutiny is a vision. Not a flawless utopia, but a lawless tribe of defiant free-spirits, brewing up a more natural life.
How could such a dream be kindled? Music is a great place to start: uncensored honesty, fueled by personal journals, put to all-acoustic instrumentation. It doesn't matter who wrote it. What matters is that, if you belong at Fort Mutiny, these tunes may help you get there....more
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