thejunkyardprocession 02 | Page 14

Sure there is nob down my street There's a Nob who lives down my street, I know he's a nob From what he wears on his feet, he wears red doc martins laced in white, He’s a shaven headed bastard of the ultra-right, Revolutions Copernicus seeded celestial motion into every revolutionary movement He wears ben Sherman and skinny red braces; he says he's a skinhead, 'De revolutionibus orbium coelestium' But he’s not, he’s a racist, he hates other people, he thinks their unclean, Connolly arms tied by British murderers played the atheist prey of good Christians But he drinks their larger and eats their cuisine; he has a bagel for his breakfast And a curry for his tea, but his favourite man in history, is a fucking dead Nazi, But he is as just a sypalitic parasite, a bloody disgrace, he was no fucking champion Of the master race, he says he's proud of his heritage, proud he's white, But he’s an evil Nazi Bastard of the ultra-right, you incoherent bonehead, you really take the piss, With your Nazi ideology, you drive me round the twist; I hate everything about you, I hate what you’ve become; you’re the epitomy of ignorance, but knew the signs of coming eruptions not a socialist Nostradamus a class Einstein his sums work on the cell walls of prisons each social equation tested on picket lines the Parliaments of pubs, fields and streets behind the equal signs sit prophetic answers ‘Revolution is never practical until the hour of revolution strikes then it alone is practical’ as gravity spins a web of dead rocks and ice black balls the matter of stars into planets You lousy Nazi scum pulls the rabbit of life from dark interiors so revolution brews and bubbles and digs Luke Hogarth under the City Gods unholy black jack economy the mole of revolution is heading for the surface. jgh(c)2012