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We Made These Beds… Part II

August 30, 2009
by

I dedicate this genius piece of writing to our sad little species… I hope those who read it get the point.

And now it seems
as if we’re used to the chagrin
We made our beds
and now we hate where these beds be
Took nothing at all to part this Red Sea
I’m a shackled child
singing the good song of Freedom

They’ve got no pride
they interrupt our grieving
Tear drop dropping
for the pain of the world

My best friend dies
when she was just a young girl
Left me here, to fend for myself
Now the pain never leaves
We just learn to cope

so when the devil needs hanging
will you tie up the rope and shout PULL!?
Let’s put an end to this bull
zen thing
How many years
before we practice what we preach?
How many tears
before we truly clinch the peak?
Only to find that
there is no honey on the moon
Official goon
with the unofficial croon

I’m All Things to All Men
All of the Women
All the Children
Just say when
and I’ll take you to my Tardis
Who’s the Hardest?
Who’s the Hardest?

16 bar cycles
heart felt recital
from the wacky blacky man
they should have called me Michael
Look at the monster you make
look at the monster you pay
But you claim no responsibility
cause it’s each to his self
in these times that we live

Does God have a sense of humour?
Then the joke’s on us
Cause we’re chasing our tails
for how long?
The tussle makes us how strong?
vintage poor people fun
If we could ease up on these booze and fags
then, just maybe
life wouldn’t be so mad

Be a man my dad said
but what the hell he know?
he lost his dreams
he lost his flow
And I don’t wanna be alone

I’m born King
so where’s my throne?
I’m too intense
I’m too deep
I’m too nice for life
So what makes this place so nervous?

I’m All Things to All Men
All of the Women
All the Children
Just say when
and I’ll take you to my Tardis
Who’s the Hardest?
Who’s the Hardest?

Look at the monster you make
look at the monster you pay
But you claim no responsibility
but you claim none
We’re searching for Jesus
but I’ll be damned
if I’ll be crucified by 10,000 spies
compulsive lies

They Hate Me
They Love Me
They Hate Me
Cause I’m All Things to All Men, All of the Women, All the Children
Just say when and I’ll take you to my Tardis
Who’s the Hardest, Who’s the Hardest?

Lyrics: Roots Manuva, Music: The Cinematic Orchestra,

Song: “All Things to All Men”, from the album “Every Day”, The Cinematic Orchestra, 2002

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