I owe my life to music.

Depends on your definition of deep, but this is surely about as deep as it gets:

https://youtu.be/qagOblqhBhk

"Acknowledgement" (7:43) - John Coltrane
A Love Supreme (1965)

The Grateful Dead's Ripple has always had a very spiritual feeling to me. I absolutely love to listen to it over and over again. :heart: Few friends relate to the degree I do about this song and that is one of the best parts of the song. Friendship :flower: — ArguingWAristotleTiff

My favorite as well. But you knew that.

Reach out your hand if your cup be empty
If your cup is full may it be again
Let it be known there is a fountain
That was not made by the hands of men

Puff the Magic Dragon holds special meaning to me. Despite all that is said about it being about drug use, I take it as a sentimental song about a little innocent boy growing up.

A dragon lives forever, but not so little boys
Painted wings and giant's rings make way for other toys
One gray night it happened, Jackie Paper came no more
And Puff, that mighty dragon, he ceased his fearless roar

Puff the Magic Dragon holds special meaning to me. Despite all that is said about it being about drug use, I take it as a sentimental song about a little innocent boy growing up. — Hanover

:fear:
Is a special song for me, at a very difficult time in my life I was singing the song and became deeply saddened by the story.
That and "The Cat's Cradle" ....too hard to listen to still. Too many ties to my Dad and my sister :broken:

My favorite as well. But you knew that. — Hanover

Another time, another world, another go around :flower:

Okkervil River - The War Criminal Rises and Speaks



The heart wants to feel.
The heart wants to hold.
The heart takes past Subway,
Past Stop and Shop,
Past Beal's,
And calls it "coming home."
The heart wants a trail
Away from "alone”
So the heart turns a sale
Into a well-worn milestone
The heart wants soft furniture,
Fought-for fast food,
Defended end table that
Holds paperbacks and back U.S. News.
The mind turns an itch
Into a bruise,
And the hands start to twitch
When they're feeling ill-used.
But you're almost back now,
You can see by the signs;
From the bank you tell the temperature
And then the time,
And the billboard reads some headlines.
The head wants to turn,
To avert both its eyes,
But the mind wants to learn
Of some truth that might be
Inside reported crimes.
So they found a lieutenant
Who killed a village of kids.
After finishing off the wives,
He wiped off his knife
And that's what he did.
And they're not claiming that
There's any excusing it;
That was thirty years back,
And they just get paid for the facts
The way they got them in.
Now he's rising and not denying.
His hands are shaking, but he's not crying.
And he's saying "How did I climb
Out of a life so boring into that moment?
Please stop ignoring the heart inside,
Oh you readers at home!
While you gasp at my bloody crimes,
Please take the time
To make your heart my home:
Where I'm forgiven by time,
Where I'm cushioned by hope,
Where I'm numbed by long drives,
Where I'm talked off or doped.
Does the heart wants to atone?
Oh, I believe that it's so,
Because if I could climb back through time,
I'd restore their lives and then give back my own:
Tens of times now its size
On a far distant road
In a far distant time
Where every night I'm still crying,
Entirely alone."
But the news today always fades away as you drive by,
Until at dinnertime when you look into her eyes,
Lit by evening sun - that, as usual, comes
From above that straight, unbroken line,
The horizon
It’s rising
Seems a given,
Just like your living.
Your heart's warm and kind.
Your mind is your own.
So our blood-spattered criminal
Is inscrutable;
Don't worry, he won't
Rise up behind your eyes
And take wild control.
Se, he's not of this time,
He fell out of a hole.

Nouvelle Vague - In A Manner Of Speaking



In a manner of speaking
I just want to say
That I could never forget the way
You told me everything
By saying nothing

In a manner of speaking
I don't understand
How love in silence becomes reprimand
But the way that I feel about you
Is beyond words

Oh give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me nothing
Oh give me the words
Give me the words
That tell me everything

In a manner of speaking
Semantics won't do
In this life that we live
We only make do
And the way that we feel
Might have to be sacrificed

So in a manner of speaking
I just want to say
That like you I should find a way
To tell you everything
By saying nothing

Oh give me the words, etc.

https://youtu.be/JrTPOkAMlVs

[Man's Voice, repeated]

I would. Stop. Because ...
There will always be, because
There will always be, for two
There will always
Inside you can feel th-
Outside, you can see the difference
Inside. Stop. Inside difference
Outside, out- Stop
Inside, you can feel the difference
Feel the-
You can difference. Difference. Difference
You can see the-
Feel the difference
You can stop. Stop, and see the-
You can stop-
You can see the difference

Dragons, the policeman knew
Were supposed to breathe- to breathe fire. Fire
To breathe fire, and occasionally get themselves, get themselves
Slaughtered. Slaughtered. Slaughtered
He decided
That would definitely not be decided
Stop. Stop
Definitely not-
Stop. Stop
Not
Definitely
That would, that would, that would-
Stop
Definitely decided
Decided. Decided. Decided
Not not. Stop
Be decided

[Old Lady's Voice, repeated & overlayed]

The basis of the all-important question
Involved in the mixing and the regeneration of a person's voice
Incapable of any distinction between frequency response
Is such that the entire output is revealed in the voice
Is the actual voice itself of the voice being used
Is the voice being used?
Is the voice being used
Used voice being used
Being used voice, being voice

[Young Woman's Voice]

This type of a formation can only be explained
When two or more separate units are linked together thus forming
A screen only detectable through specially designed equipment
On released that spot type floor

[Old Woman]

I decided to use the tools available
Stop. Stop. The tools available
Stop. Stop. Upon me
Force the tools available
Yes, I'm all right


"I Before E Except After C" (4:36) - Vince Clarke, Alison Moyet & Mrs. Radcliffe
Upstairs at Eric's by Yazoo (1982)

Standing on the beach
With a gun in my hand
Staring at the sea
Staring at the sand
Staring down the barrel
At the Arab on the ground
I can see his open mouth
But I hear no sound

I'm alive
I'm dead
I'm the stranger
Killing an Arab

I can turn
And walk away
Or I can fire the gun
Staring at the sky
Staring at the sun
Whichever I chose
It amounts to the same
Absolutely nothing

I'm alive
I'm dead
I'm the stranger
Killing an Arab

I feel the steel butt jump
Smooth in my hand
Staring at the sea
Staring at the sand
Staring at myself
Reflected in the eyes
Of the dead man on the beach
The dead man on the beach

I'm alive
I'm dead
I'm the stranger
Killing an Arab

Dis poem
Shall speak of the wretched sea
That washed ships to these shores
Of mothers cryin for their young
Swallowed up by the sea
Dis poem shall say nothin new
Dis poem shall speak of time
Time unlimited time undefined
Dis poem shall call names
Names like Lumumba
Kenyatta
Nkrumah
Hannibal
Akenaton
Malcolm Garvey
Haile selassie
Dis poem is vexed about apartheid rascism fascism
The klu klux klan riots in Brixton
Atlanta
Jim jones
Dis poem is revoltin against 1st world 2nd world
3rd world division man made decision
Dis poem is like all the rest

Dis poem will not be amongst great literary works
Will not be recited by poetry enthusiasts
Will not be quoted by politicians nor men of religion
Dis poem is knives bombs guns blood fire
Blazin for freedom
Yes dis poem is a drum
Ashanti mau mau ibo yoruba nyahbingi warriors
Uhuru uhuru
Uhuru Namibia
Uhuru Soweto
Uhuru Afrika
Dis poem will not change things
Dis poem need to be changed
Dis poem is a rebirth of a people
Arising awaking understanding
Dis poem speak is speaking have spoken
Dis poem shall continue even when poets have stopped writing
Dis poem shall survive you me it shall linger in history
In your mind
In time forever
Dis poem is time only time will tell
Dis poem is still not written
Dis poem has no poet
Dis poem is just a part of the story
His-story her-story our-story the story still untold
Dis poem is now ringin talking irritating
Makin you want to stop it
But dis poem will not stop
Dis poem is long cannot be short
Dis poem cannot be tamed cannot be blamed
The story is still not told about dis poem
Dis poem is old new
Dis poem was copied from the bible your prayer book
Playboy magazine the new york times readers digest
The C.I.A. files the K.G.B. files
Dis poem is no secret
Dis poem shall be called boring stupid senseless
Dis poem is watchin you tryin to make sense from dis poem
Dis poem is messing up your brains
Makin you want to stop listening to dis poem
But you shall not stop listening to dis poem
You need to know what will be said next in dis poem
Dis poem shall disappoint you
Because
Dis poem is to be continued in your mind
in your mind
In your mind
your mind ...

"Dis Poem" (2:55) - Mutabaruka
The Mystery Unfolds (1986)

Thanks. Hard to find a good poet nowadays.

Good topic you have come up with!
As for me, I find a lot of inspiration in country music. It is a strange thing to say, but the contrast between lyrics and melody makes me think a lot. Look, for example, at Hank Williams and others. They put so much soul into what they did. I wish I had discovered this earlier.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=9jBnaVJPTAI

The bells've tolled
My baby caught that train and gone
The bells've tolled
My baby caught that train and gone
It's all my fault
I must have done somebody wrong, oh yeah

Everything's that happened
You know I am to blame
Everything's that happened
You know I am to blame
I'm gonna find me a doctor
Maybe my luck will change, oh yeah

My mama told me
These days will surely come
But I wouldn't listen to her
Said I've got to have some fun
I must've did somebody wrong
It was all my fault
I must've did somebody wrong

"Done Somebody Wrong" (2:21)
Performed by Elmore James (1960)
Lyrics by Elmore James et al (1960)

Come closer, listen to me little boy
I will tell you the story of the human being

In the beginning there was nothing, everything was fine
Nature was going its own way and there was no path
Then man came along with his big boots
A few kicks in the face to gain some respect
He started to line out one-way roads
The arrows on the plain started to multiply
And all the elements had to witness their domestication
In a blink of an eye history took shaped
We aren’t going back anytime soon
We have even started to pollute the desert

You have to breathe — easier said than done
You're not going to die of laughter — that’s an understatement

A few years from now we will complete the process
And your grand-children will have just one eye
And they're going to ask you straight on
Why do you have two of these, you’ll look like a cunt
They will ask you why you let all this happen
And you will try in vain to explain, in a low voice
That it’s not your fault, it's your ancestors' fault
But there will be no one else to blame
You will tell them of the time when you could
Eat fruits while lying in the grass nearby
There were animals all over the forest
In the springtime the birds would return...

You have to breathe — easier said than done
You're not going to die of laughter — that’s an understatement
You have to breathe — tomorrow things will be worse
You're not going to die of laughter — that’s an understatement

The worst thing about this is that we are all slaves
And also assassins to a certain degree, incapable
To look at the trees without feeling guilty
We’ve half given up, a hundred percent miserable

So you see, little one... This is the story of the human being
It's not so nice and I don't know how it ends
You weren't born under a gooseberry bush
Rather in a hole, filled up everyday like a cesspit

Mickey 3D - Respire

Negro?
Nigga?
West Indian?
Den a which country I belang?
Chinese - China
Indian - India
European - Europe
Negro?
Nigga?
West Indian?
Den a which country I belang
Negro - black
But negroland - no!
Nigga - stupid
But stupidland - no!
West yes
Bui I no Indian
Den a which country I belang?

I affe no trace
My original place
Try to find out
Wa i is all about
A come ya from de east
Dat I know
But in de east
There is no negro
Nigga?
Dat I can't figga
West Indian?
A which country I belang?

Wait

I rememba a land
Weh man act like man
Dem use fe call wi
Nigerian
Ghanaian
Ethiopian

"Whey mi belang" (4:01) - Mutabaruka
Check It!" (1982)


re: while thinking of ... Trayford Pellerin 11 shots (RIP). 48 hours to reload. Jacob Blake 7 shots ... in the back, unarmed. Rayshard Brooks. George Floyd 8m 46s. Ahmaud Arbery. Breanna Taylor. And all the rest lynched by the state in America so far in this pandemic year.

addendum (ah, wtf)

... They rally round the family
With a pocket full of shells ...

"Bulls on Parade" (3:51)
Evil Empire (1996)
Rage Against The Machine

An interesting cover of Go Down Moses:



Armstrong, I'm not black - Armstrong, je ne suis pas noir
For my skin is white - Je suis blanc de peau
When one wants to sing about hope - Quand on veut chanter l'espoir
What a lack of luck! - Quel manque de pot !
Yes, I can see the sky, the bird - Oui, j'ai beau voir le ciel, l'oiseau
But nothing, nothing, nothing shines up there - Mais rien, rien, rien ne luit là-haut
Zero angels - Les anges, zéro
'Cause my skin is white - Je suis blanc de peau

Armstrong, you crack a joke - Armstrong, tu te fends la poire
We can see all your teeth - On voit toutes tes dents
Me, I'm rather in a black mood - Moi, je broie plutôt du noir
Black mood inside - Du noir en dedans
Sing for me, Louis, oh yeah - Chante pour moi, Louis, oh oui
Sing, sing, sing, it keeps me warm - Chante, chante, chante, ça tient chaud
And I'm cold, oh me - J'ai froid, oh me
Whose skin is white - Qui suis blanc de peau

Armstrong, life, what a story! - Armstrong, la vie, quelle histoire !
It's not very funny - C'est pas très marrant
Whether we write it white on black - Qu'on l'écrive blanc sur noir
Or instead black on white - Ou bien noir sur blanc
We mostly see red, red - On voit surtout du rouge, du rouge
Blood, blood, without truce or rest - Sang, sang, sans trêve ni repos
Whether one is, I guess - Qu'on soit, ma foi
Black or white of skin - Noir ou blanc de peau

Armstrong, one day sooner or later - Armstrong, un jour, tôt ou tard
We'll be just bones - On n'est que des os
Will yours be black? - Est-ce que les tiens seront noirs?
That would be fun - Ce serait rigolo
Go down, Louis, hallelujah - Allez Louis, alléluia
Under our ragged skin - Au-delà de nos oripeaux
Black and white are alike - Noir et blanc sont ressemblants
Like two drops of water - Comme deux gouttes d'eau

And then the master:

It feels like rain
Buddy Guy
Lying here underneath the stars right next to you

Try to listen all the way to the end which I think is the best part. I tried to translate the lyrics for those who would be interested, but I think the most beautiful about this song is the way he sings at the end... pure beauty and soul. (I don't believe you need to know what he's saying to enjoy the melody).

The guy was an Argentinian singer and philosopher who got killed in Guatemala city.

Lyrics:

I like those who say nothing, and I like those who sing.
And from spending so much time with myself, I like everything that happens to me.
Things like this happen to me even though it is not important to tell everybody all the things that happen.
Because one does not live alone, and what happens to one is happening to the world, that's the only reason... and cause.
Everything is so perfect because God is perfect that a star will move if I pluck a flower, for this reason if there is one, there is two.

I knew the Devil the night I said no to the hungry, and that same night I knew that the Devil is God's son.
I walk life alone with a tone and dominant, moderately a singer and without pretensions of teaching because if the world is round I do not know what lies ahead.
Walking and walking, always walking, just because.
I did not come to explain to the world, to the world I just came to play (music).
I do not want to judge man, to man I want to tell.
My condition is life, and my path is to sing, to sing and to tell life is my manner of walking.

One day I arrived in Tandil (a city in Argentina) and met an old man that lacking intelligence decided to be wise; one night I asked the beautiful old man about Jesus, and I knew him right away when he reached me a mirror.

I dance with my song and not with the one someone else plays to me.
I am not freedom, but I am who provokes it.
If I know the path already, why would I lay down?
If like freedom, why would I live as a slave?
To choose, I always choose, more than for me, for my brother.
And if I have decided to be an eagle it was out of love for the worm.

I prefer to keep walking than to ride a borrowed horse, someone will always be in debt for an apple.

Always arrives first the one who's traveling light.

The day I die it wont be necessary to use the scale because to say goodbye to a singer with a simple milonga (a type of Argentinian music) is enough.
I face my enemy and I give my back to a compliment because he who accepts a compliment starts to be dominated... man strokes (caresses) the horse to ride it.
I am sorry if I overstep and became too moral, nobody can give advises, there's no man who is that old.
I put the sun on my shoulders, and the world becomes yellow.
I like walking, but i do not follow the path for what's known lacks mystery.
I like to go with the summer far away, but to comeback to my mother in the winter and see the dogs that never forgot me, and the horses, and the hugs of my brothers...

I like it
I like it
I like the sun, Alicia, and doves,
A good cigar and the Spanish guitar
Jumping walls and opening windows
And when a woman cries

I like wine as much as flowers
And rabbits but not tractors
home-made bread, and Dolores' voice
and the sea soaking my feet

I am not from her nor am I from there
I have no home nor do I have a future
and to be happy is my identity colour

I like to lie all the time on the sand
or in a bicycle to follow Manuela
or all the time to see the stars with Maria in the wheat fields

I am not from her nor am I from there
I have no home nor do I have a future
and to be happy is my identity colour

Ich seh die leute in den straßen
Die diktatur der angepassten
In den städten und den dörfern
Leben sie und ihre lügen
Lügen, lügen, lügen
Männer, frauen, junge, alte
In den büros und den fabriken
An den schulen und zu hause
Lassen sich für dumm verkaufen
Kaufen, kaufen, kaufen

Ihr habt immer nur weggesehen
Es wird immer so weitergehen
Gebt endlich auf - es ist vorbei!
Ihr habt alles falsch gemacht
Habt ihr nie drüber nachgedacht?
Gebt endlich auf- es ist vorbei!

Im norden, süden, osten, westen
Die diktatur der angepaßten
Das geld vibriert und auf den genchips
Diktiert ein freier markt das leben
Leben, leben, leben
Die medien helfen ihnen beim dummsein
Ein starker staat hilft ihnen beim stummsein
Die leute wollen unter sich sein
Und gehen dafür über leichen
Leichen, leichen, leichen


I see the people in the streets
The dictatorship of the adapted
In the cities and the villages
Live them and their lies
Lies, lies, lies
Men, women, young, old
In offices and factories
At schools and at home
Let yourself be fooled
Buy, buy, buy

You always just looked away
It will always go on like this
Finally give up - it's over!
You did everything wrong
Have you never thought about it?
Finally give up - it's over!

In the north, south, east, west
The dictatorship of the adapted
The money vibrates and on the gene chips
A free market dictates life
Live, live, live
The media help you to be stupid
A strong state helps you to be silent
People want to be among themselves
And walking over corpses
Corpses, corpses, corpses

I lay awake in bed,
I don't know how I got here
There's a knocking on the door
One, Two, Three, Four
It's quite a bloody mess in here and no one feels responsible
The fragmentation of our selves, nah, don't be so sensible
You know they build on sand but they call it an empire
So much for cleaning up now, the middle class is fading
Those friends in higher places are deceptive clowns parading
The cocaine cowboys and the wall street vampires
White noise, white noise
Come and lull me into my sleep
White noise, beautiful white noise
Who distributes the migrants, who talks about the crisis
New faces to the cabinet, let's see how thick the ice is
Testing distant waters, quietly behind the scenes
My arm is growing tired, of waving the white flag
And now there's nothing left to light, just filters of old fags
The prime minister's driving in a long black limousine
White noise, white noise
Come and lull me into my sleep
White noise, beautiful white noise
Tonight I don't care if I'm a creep
White noise, white noise
Is the quiet before the storm
White noise, beautiful white noise
And the world goes, tweet tweet, tweet tweet
Tweet tweet, tweet tweet, yeah
And the birds go, tweet tweet, tweet tweet
Tweet tweet, tweet tweet, yeah
In a room without a roof, I'm staring at the ceiling
In times like these they don't care about how we're feeling
White noise, white noise
Come and lull me into my sleep
White noise, beautiful white noise
Tonight I don't care if I'm a creep
White noise, white noise
Comes the morning, comes a time to eat
White noise, beautiful white noise
There's no one left to talk to, and no one wants to listen
How can we right a wrong when all they do is reminiscing
Free speech echoes, echoes from the wall
I lean back in my camp chair, waiting until they fall

(a Crass cover - I can't stand the original punk music but this version is highly listenable)

Oh yeah?
Well I've got it all up here, see?
Oh yeah?
Oh yeah?
When they think they've got it all out there, see?
They can fuck off, 'cause they ain't got me,
They can't buy my dignity,
Oh yeah?
Oh yeah?
Let me tell you, I've got it all up here, see?

Tried to get me with a T.V. show,
But I wouldn't have none of it, no, no, no.
Standards and values on a black and white screen,
Sarah Farah Fawcett acting mean.
She's got the lot, that's what
They want you to think,
Read between the lines,
You'll see the missing link.
She's just a fucking puppet
In their indoctrination plan,
"Be like me girls and become a real man, "
Live to the full, always act flash,
Don't use your brains when
Your body makes the splash.

Oh yeah? etc.

Tried to get me in the supermarket store,
Bought what I wanted, they they said "buy more."
Mountains of crap that nobody really needs,
Gaily coloured wrappers to suit assorted greeds.
They've got the lot, that's what
They want you to think,
Read between the lines,
You'll see the missing link.
Buy this product, pay for the crap,
Quarter for the product,
Three quarters for the wrap.
Be a happy family, like the people on the pack,
Pay up to the profit, and you'll never look back.

Oh yeah? etc.

Tried to get me with their learning
And their books,
Deep understanding and intelligent looks,
All of the time, they never saw me,
They were just looking for what
They wanted to see.
They've got the lot, that's what
They want you to think,
Read between the lines,
You'll see the missing link.
Books are easy backs for what
They want to do to you,
Bind you up in slavery for the privileged few,
They'll prove their lies with history,
Say "that's the way it always was,
Accept the shit and slavery, be one of us."

Oh yeah? etc.

Tried to get me with religion and with christ,
Said I'd get to heaven if I acted real nice,
But they were just preparing a crucifix for me,
A life of guilt, of sin, of pain, of holy misery.
They've got the lot,
That's what they want you to think,
Read between the lines,
You'll see the missing link.
The bible's just a blue print
For their morality scene,
Just another load of shit on how it's never been.
They stand there in the pulpit,
Doling out their lies,
Offering forgiveness,
Then they talk of eyes for eyes.

Oh yeah? etc.

Tried to get me, but I won't be got,
Say I'm a misfit but I say I'm not,
I never set out to profit from another,
Those smarmy bastards would steal
From their mother.
They've got the lot, that's what
They want you to think,
Read between the lines,
You'll see the missing link.
They plundered and slaughtered
In the name of truth,
Acceptance of normality is
What they want from you as proof,
They think they've got the answers,
But there's something that they miss,
Their cup which overfloweth, is just full of piss.

Oh yeah? etc.

Real cool, thanks.

No problems mate.

I'm not too sure if any of it's 'deep', as I've come to learn that most of what I consider to be 'deep' is itself rather trivial (or just obvious), but if you enjoy it I believe that's what matters most.

I wanted to post other songs, in German (my adopted language), but I kind of figure it would be pandering and boring.

Anyway... I found a song I didn't know the artist performed in English and the video is very odd. I find the out of sync aspect and the end credits of a talk show from 1991 kind of makes it work even better. I doubt it's 'deep', but it works for me. (an unexpected twist of lyrics considering the genre of music I suppose)

I was a Maoist intellectual in the music industry
I always knew that I could seize the world's imagination
And show the possibilities for transformation
I saw a nation in decay, but also a solution:
Permanent cultural revolution
Whenever I played my protest songs the press applauded me
Rolled out the red carpet, parted the Red Sea
But the petit bourgeois philistines all stayed away
They preferred their artists to have nothing to say

How did I pass my time on earth? What got into me?
I was a Maoist intellectual in the entertainment field

I showed the people how they lived and told them it was bad
Showed them the insanity inside the bureaucrat
And the archetypes and stereotypes that were my stock in trade
Toppled all the ivory towers that privilege had made
Though I tried to change your mind I never tried your patience
All I tried to do was to point out your exploitation
But the powers that be took this to be a personal insult
And refused to help me build my personality cult

How did I pass my time an earth and now it can be revealed.
I was a Maoist intellectual in the music industry

I left the normal world behind and started living in
A hinterland between dissolution and self discipline
I burned the midnight oil to build my way of seeing
A miner at the coal face of meaning
The rich despised the songs I wrote which told the poor their worth
Told the shy to speak and told the meek to take the earth
But my downfall came from being three things the working classes hated:
Agitated, organised and over-educated

How did I pass my time on earth, how did I bear witness?
As a Maoist intellectual in the entertainment business
And how was I treated in this world and in this industry?
As a Maoist intellectual in a business would be

I became a hotel doorman, I stood there on the doormat
Clutching my forgotten discs in their forgotten format
Trying to hand them out to all the stars who sauntered in
The ones who hadn't been like me, who hadn't lived in vain
I gave up ideology the day I lost my looks
I never found a publisher for my Little Red Book
When I died the energy released by my frustration
Was nearly enough for re-incarnation

But if I could live my life again the last thing that I'd be
Is a Maoist intellectual in the music industry
No if I could live my life again I think I'd like to be
The man whose job is to stop the men who think like me
Yeah if l could live my life again that'd be the thing to be
The man who plots the stumbling blocks
In the lives of the likes of me!