Music with a leftist message

We live in a world of double standards,
One law for them and one law for we,
They say what is legal and what is a crime,
They say what is war and what is terrorism,
They say what they want to say to justify their own actions,
Who are the terrorists and who are the heros?

Who are the terrorists?
Who are the heros?
Double standards.

Now when Adolf Hitler tried to conquer the world with his evil regime,
Anybody who fought against him was classed as a hero,
They fought fire with fire,
But for many many years there's been a regime every bit as evil as that of Adolf Hitler,
But if you fight against the apartheid system in South Africa, you are a terrorist.

Who are the terrorists?
Who are the heros?
Double standards.

Imagine if aliens from outer space came to conquer the human race,
Came to control all the world's wealth and take the best part of the world for themself.
Suppose they say "Fear not peoples of Earth, we are here to help you. Give us everything of any worth and we will not harm you. You have gold mines, or should I say used to have, now they're mine. But you can work in the golden grime for a 80 hour week, we'll give you about... £2 a time. Oh yes, another thing, you must all carry a pass, just so none of you get lost. Certain boundaries you must not cross or our police will bust you aaarrrsseee."

Sound familiar?
People of the World will fight for their liberty, even if it took centuries,
And when the oppressor was forced to go, the people who fought against them would be classed as heros, and quite rightly so.
So why oh why oh why oh why are the people who fight against the oppressors in South Africa classed as terrorists?
To me, they are heros.

Who are the terrorists?
Who are the heros?
Come tell me.
Double standards

Fighting in Namibia,
The media says this is a clash between South African troops and SWAPO guerillas,
Troops against guerillas.
I would say it is a clash between a South African terrorists and SWAPO freedom fighters,
Yeahh, sounds more like it true.
Botha and his henchmen called the ANC terrorists,
That's worse than the pot calling the kettle black,
The apartheid system is an act of terrorism itself,
It is evil, evil, evil, evil, evil, evil, evil, evil, evil.
Killing of the children in Soweto was an act of terrorism,
Locking Mandela in a prison so long is an act of terrorism,
Indefinite detention is an act of terrorism,
Invasion of people's homeland is an act of terrorism,
So tell me, who are the terrorists?
Who are the heros?
Who are the terrorists?
Who are the heros?
Who are the terrorists?
Who are the heros?
Who are the terrorists?
I know. Do you?

This play is about the US suffragist movement from 1913 to 1920. In this song, Alice Paul (Protagonist) is convincing Inez Milholland to go on a national tour of the country to get Woodrow Wilson voted out of office because of his delay, deny, deflect tactics towards the women fighting for the vote.

As an organizer myself, this song resonates deeply. I've had this conversation with myself several times.

Oh, rent a flat above a shop

And cut your hair and get a job

And smoke some fags and play some pool

Pretend you never went to school

But still you'll never get it right

'Cause when you're laid in bed at night

Watching roaches climb the wall

If you called your dad he could stop it all, yeah

watch?v=L-57FrioeuE

Orgulloso de estar entre el proletariado
Es difícil llegar a fin de mes
Y tener que sudar y sudar
Pa' ganar nuestro pan

Este es mi sitio, esta es mi gente
Somos obreros, la clase preferente
Por eso, hermano proletario, con orgullo, yo te canto esta canción
¡Somos la revolución!

Sí señor, la revolución
Sí señor, sí señor, somos la revolución
Tu enemigo es el patrón
Sí señor, sí señor, somos la revolución
¡Viva la revolución!

Estoy hasta los cojones de aguantar a
Sanguijuelas, los que me roban mi dignidad
Mi vida se consume soportando esta rutina
Que me ahoga cada día más

Feliz el empresario, más callos en mis manos
Mis riñones van a reventar
No tengo un puto duro pero sigo cotizando
A tu estado del bienestar, ¡arriba!

¡Resistencia!
¡Resistencia!
¡Resistencia!

¡Baila, hermano, el vals del obrero!

Este es mi sitio, esta es mi gente
Somos obreros, la clase preferente
Por eso, hermano proletario, con orgullo yo te canto esta canción
¡Somos la revolución!

Sí señor, la revolución
Sí señor, sí señor, somos la revolución
Tu enemigo es el patrón
Sí señor, sí señor, somos la revolución
¡Viva la revolución!

En esta democracia hay mucho listo que se lucra
Exprimiendo a nuestra clase social
Les importa cuatro huevos si tienes catorce hijos
Y la abuela no se puede operar

Somos los obreros, la base de este juego
En el que siempre pierde el mismo pringao'
Un juego bien pensado en el que nos tienen callados
Y te joden si no quieres jugar

¡Resistencia!
¡Resistencia!
¡Resistencia!
¡Resistencia!

Ska, ska, ska, ska

¡Resistencia!
¡Resistencia!
¡Resistencia!
Resistencia, resistencia, resistencia

¡Resistencia!
Insistimos

¡Resistencia!
¡Resistencia!
¡Resistencia!
Resistencia, resistencia
¡De-so-be-dien-cia!

cross-posted from: https://aussie.zone/post/31732255

It looks like OpenStreetMap has them listed as a garden, which I think makes sense: https://www.openstreetmap.org/query?lat=-33.887330&lon=151.199083

The contrast of career banker adults who have aggrandized the exploitation of foreign soil and peoples, usury, debt with that of innocent children (and the average person who wants nothing to do with the above) is a sterling (pun intended) takedown of banking.

Extra, that you probably already knew, Dick Van Dyke, who also played Burt the chimney sweep and common man character in the movie, portrays the elderly bank director here in the same movie. A front runner to Sellers and Carrey's multitudinous talents.

I saw the play Suffs this weekend, I highly recommend it! The play follows the American Suffragist movement from 1913 to 1920. This song is the finale, in which Alice Paul (protagonist and actual suffragist leader) realizes in the face of a NOW member that her movement failed to uplift all women and that the fight for justice is multigenerational

Fuck the politically minded, here's something I want to say,
About the state of nation, the way it treats us today.
At school they give you shit, drop you in the pit,
You try, you try, you try to get out, but you can't because they've fucked you about. Then you're a prime example of how they must not be,
This is just a sample of what they've done to you and me.

Do they owe us a living?
Of course they do, of course they do.
Owe us a living?
Of course they do, of course they do.
Owe us a living?
Of course they fucking do.

Don't want me anymore, cos I threw it on the floor.
Used to call me sweet thing, I'm nobody's plaything,
And now that I am different, you'd love to bust my head,
You'd love to see me cop-out, love to see me dead.

Do they owe us a living?
Of course they do, of course they do.
Owe us a living?
Of course they do, of course they do.
Owe us a living?
Of course they fucking do.

The living that is owed to me I'm never going to get,
They've buggered this old world up, up to their necks in debt.
They'd give you a lobotomy for something you ain't done,
They'll make you an epitomy of everything that's wrong.

Do they owe us a living?
Of course they do, of course they do.
Owe us a living?
Of course they do, of course they do.
Owe us a living?
Of course they fucking do.

Don't take any notice of what the public think,
They're so hyped up with T.V., they just don't want to think.
They'll use you as a target for demands and for advice,
When you don't want to hear it they'll say you're full of vice.

Do they owe us a living?
Of course they do, of course they do.
Owe us a living?
Of course they do, of course they do.
Owe us a living?
Of course they fucking do.

"Yet our best trained, best educated, best equipped, best prepared troops refuse to fight. As a matter of fact, it's safe to say that they would rather switch than fight."

1989 the number another summer (get down)
Sound of the funky drummer
Music hitting your heart cause I know you got soul
(Brothers and sisters, hey)
Listen if you're missing y'all
Swinging while I'm singin'
Giving whatcha gettin'
Knowing what I knowin'
While the Black band's sweating
And the rhythm rhymes rolling
Got to give us what we want
Gotta give us what we need
Our freedom of speech is freedom of death
We got to fight the powers that be
Lemme hear you say
Fight the power

Fight the power
We've got to fight the powers that be

As the rhythm's designed to bounce
What counts is that the rhyme's
Designed to fill your mind
Now that you've realized the pride's arrived
We got to pump the stuff to make ya tough
From the heart
It's a start, a work of art
To revolutionize make a change nothing's strange
People, people we are the same
No we're not the same
'Cause we don't know the game
What we need is awareness, we can't get careless
You say what is this?
My beloved let's get down to business
Mental self defensive fitness
(Yo) bum rush the show
You gotta go for what you know
To make everybody see, in order to fight the powers that be
Lemme hear you say
Fight the power

Fight the power
We've got to fight the powers that be

Elvis was a hero to most
But he never meant shit to me you see
Straight up racist that sucker was
Simple and plain
Motherfuck him and John Wayne
'Cause I'm Black and I'm proud
I'm ready and hyped plus I'm amped
Most of my heroes don't appear on no stamps
Sample a look back you look and find
Nothing but rednecks for 400 years if you check
Don't worry be happy
Was a number one jam
Damn if I say it you can slap me right here
(Get it) let's get this party started right
Right on, c'mon
What we got to say
Power to the people no delay
Make everybody see
In order to fight the powers that be

Fight the power
We've got to fight the powers that be

There really is nothing nice about U.S.A.
You go to the hospital, you have to pay
The dollar is the language that they all speak
They don't really bother about radiation leak

Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S. (U.S.A.)
Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S. (U.S.A.)
Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S. (U.S.A.)
Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S.A.

They keep their secrets undercover
The rich don't bother about those that suffer
This ain't land of milk and honey
'Cause all they want is money, money, money

Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S. (U.S.A.)
Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S. (U.S.A.)
Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S. (U.S.A.)
Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S.A.

Nuclear bombs are fuck all new
You'd better start running when they drop on you
Run into a shelter, play hide-and-seek
'Cause when you die your body reeks

Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S. (U.S.A.)
Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S. (U.S.A.)
Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S. (U.S.A.)
Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S.A.

There really is nothing nice about U.S.A.
You go to the hospital, you have to pay
The dollar is the language that they all speak
They don't really bother about the radiation leak

Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S. (U.S.A.)
Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S. (U.S.A.)
Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S. (U.S.A.)
Fuck the U.S.A., fuck the U.S.A.

Sons of US military in Germany, The Monks' anticonsumerism, anticapitalism, anticolonialism, antimilitarism/antiwar "Black Monk Time" punk polka anthem was recorded in 1965, released in 1966. Featured instrumentation includes electrified tenor banjo and Farfisa organ.

For how long do we tolerate
These fools drunk with power

Drunk with power, obsessed with death
Death and destruction drunk with power

A giant game of chess they play
With you and I
As the disposable pieces

Drunk with power, obsessed with death
Death and destruction drunk with power

For how long do we tolerate
These fools drunk with power

Drunk with power, obsessed with death
Death and destruction drunk with power

A giant game of chess they play
With you and I
As the disposable pieces

Drunk with power, obsessed with death
Death and destruction drunk with power

The song is a social satire[1][2][3] about the development of suburbia and associated conformist middle-class attitudes. It mocks suburban tract housing as "little boxes" of different colors "all made out of ticky-tacky" and which "all look just the same". "Ticky-tacky" is a reference to the shoddy material supposedly used in the construction of the houses.[4]

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Little_Boxes

Lyrics:

Little boxes on the hillside
Little boxes made of ticky-tacky
Little boxes on the hillside
Little boxes all the same

There's a pink one and a green one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same

And the people in the houses
All went to the university
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same

And there's doctors and lawyers
And business executives
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same

And they all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school

And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same

And the boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same

There's a pink one and a green one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky-tacky
And they all look just the same

Now you can tear a building down
But you can't erase a memory
These houses may look all run down
But they have a value you can't see

This is my neighborhood
This is where I come from
I call this place my home
You call this place a slum
You wanna run the people out
This is what you're all about
Treat poor people just like trash
Turn around and make big cash

Now you can tear a building down But you can't erase a memory
These houses may look all run down
But they have a value you can't see

Last month there was a fire
I saw seven children die
You sent flowers to their families
But your sympathy's a lie
'Cause every building that you burn
Is more blood money that you earn
We are forced to relocate
From the pain that you create

Now you can tear a building down
But you can't erase a memory
These houses may look all run down
But they have a value you can't see
Now you can tear a building down
But you can't erase a memory
These houses may look all run down
But they have a value you can't see

We lived here for so many years
Now this house is full of fear
For a profit you will take control
Where will all the older people go?
There used to be when kids could play
Without the scourge of drug's decay
Now our kids are living dead
They crack and blow their lives away

Now you can tear a building down
But you can't erase a memory
These houses may look all run down
But they have a value you can't see
Now you can tear a building down
But you can't erase a memory
These houses may look all run down
But they have a value you can't see

You've got to fight
You've got to fight
You've got to fight
For your neighborhood

You've got to fight
For your neighbor

Punk ain't no religious cult
Punk means thinking for yourself
You ain't hardcore when you spike your hair
When a jock still lives inside your head

Nazi punks, Nazi punks, Nazi punks: fuck off!
Nazi punks, Nazi punks, Nazi punks: fuck off!

If you've come to fight, get outta here
You ain't no better than the bouncers
We ain't trying to be police
If you ape the cops, it ain't anarchy

Nazi punks, Nazi punks, Nazi punks: fuck off!
Nazi punks, Nazi punks, Nazi punks: fuck off!

Ten guys jump one, what a man
You fight each other, the police state wins
Stab your backs when you trash our halls
Trash a bank if you've got real balls

You still think swastikas look cool
The real Nazis run your schools
They're coaches, businessmen, and cops
In a real Fourth Reich, you'll be the first to go

Nazi punks, Nazi punks, Nazi punks: fuck off!
Nazi punks, Nazi punks, Nazi punks: fuck off!

You'll be the first to go, you'll be the first to go
You'll be the first to go unless you think!

Punk's not dead!

Say to me that punk is dead
I wish you more contempt
Don't like the music? Don't like the words?
You can all piss off, you're a bunch of turds

Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, oh no, it's not

We're all punks and we don't care
We're boot boys who dye our hair
Leather jackets, DM boots
Run about every night

Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, oh no, it's not

Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, oh no, it's not

We refuse to hear the lie
Have no fear till the day I die
Swearing at yooz who walk around
Don't like it? I'll hit you to the ground

Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, oh no, it's not

Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, I know
Punk's not dead, I know it's not

Yeah

The future teaches you to be alone
The present to be afraid and cold
"So if I can shoot rabbits then I can shoot fascists"

Bullets for your brain today
But we'll forget it all again
Monuments put from pen to paper
Turns me into a gutless wonder

And if you tolerate this then your children will be next
And if you tolerate this then your children will be next
Will be next, will be next, will be next

Gravity keeps my head down
Or is it maybe shame
At being so young and being so vain

Holes in your head today
But I'm a pacifist
I've walked La Ramblas but not with real intent

And if you tolerate this then your children will be next
And if you tolerate this then your children will be next
Will be next, will be next, will be next, yeah will be next

And on the street tonight
An old man plays with newspaper cuttings of his glory days

And if you tolerate this then your children will be next
And if you tolerate this then your children will be next
Will be next, will be next, will be next