Soul Behind by Aral
Religion is the shackles and blind faith is the key;
The funny thing about it is the feeling when you're free.
When senses can't be trusted and others treat you wrong,
The one redeeming value is the soul behind the song.
Batteries for cocktails, electricity for wine,
The motor of your discord is the life you left behind.
When duty to your country means blocking out your wrongs,
At the center of the labyrinth: "Is the soul behind the song?"
It's a comical attraction and a fake dramatic scene,
It's the life you're sick of living and the doom inside the dream.
It's illusory and hollow and it reeks of burning oil
It's a million robot parents unrewarded for their toil
Its a couple generations of a couple flashy brands
It's an army on vacation half submerged in swirling sands
But let's get this party started and let's drink ourselves insane
I've a hypodermic needle, could you kindly find my vein?
When a leader of a nation starts a war to win a prize,
And the people re-elect him with a blindfold on their eyes.
It's a media illusion and a propaganda scheme
'Patriotic' loss of freedom gets a "Take it for the team!"
Like an enzyme chain reaction or an exothermic burst,
Third is business, second warfare, and the media is first,
On the list of big corruption or the NASDAQ of the night.
Where the waste is hidden deeply and the covers pulled up tight.
You will never trust another if you cannot trust yourself.
Will you place your inquisition in the trash or on the shelf?
Will you reinstate Jim Crow Laws when a hundred years go by?
Will you take a skin-tone captive noting "how the time does fly."
Give me firefight and famine! Give me butter with my guns!
Look! A horde of mad reporters, like Attila and the Huns.
We shall sweep the Mason Dixon and the line at Thirty-Eight
And we'll reinstall Augustus, version 2.0 is great!
Give me Oklahoma City! Give me terrorist attacks!
Give me suicidal bombings and a land grab in Iraq!
Give me sick and tired sunsets over melancholy streets!
Give me starving children staring at the power of our fleets!
I deny your inhibitions! I deny your right to choose!
I deny United Nations! I deny you winter shoes!
I deny the facts around me! I deny current events!
I deny reports of murder! I deny the makeshift tents!
And I dare not blame my readers and I dare not blame the past
And we dare not blame each other; weren't the first, won't be the last
And I dare not blame society for fear of seeming bleak
And I dare not blame the titans and I dare not blame the weak
And I dare not blame the governmental censors or their craft
When the owners get the gold mine and the workers get the shaft
And I dare not blame the people sipping on their Soma Tea
Cause its sugar, Allah, Atkins-friendly, carb, and caffeine free.
I'll just throw my hands up in the air and sink down to my knees
And the masses will avoid me like the bearer of disease
And this funk that grows inside me will erupt like shining dark
And the most I'll get on NBC is one confused remark.
I say, "Hallelujah Chorus!" I say, "Praise the Name of God!"
From the hills of San Francisco to the swamps of old Cape Cod.
Now it's time for declaration: ring the bell and strike the gong
Til the whole world is exclaiming "Is the soul behind the song?"