We Sing For The Future Lyrics 1. We Sing For The Future (11:29) Cornelius Cardew; arr. W. Cardew/S. Moore (Verse 1) In utter chaos the old order spews out Unlimited decadence and parasitism. It brings disaster to mankind and fights against Progress with unprecedented ferocity. Stricken by all kinds of sickness, this systems in All-sided crisis with economic at the base. Spiritual and cultural devastation The crisis is social and political too. In the midst of this dying old world The proletarians of all lands are fighting. The oppressed in their millions are rising Demanding their social and national liberation. Our songs are songs of proletarian struggle, Revolution and sacrifice. Genuine Marxist-Leninists on the world scale Are organising to end the old world. (Chorus) We sing for the future Proletarians of all lands We unite and fight together For revolution and socialism We sing for the future Proletarians of all lands We unite and fight together For the victory of communism. (Verse 2) Come join with us all the youth of our land Come join all the toilers who refuse to be slaves. Come all who fight for the forward march For the brilliant future of communism. We bring with us from the past what is purest, The sentiment for the liberation of man; And from today we take Marxism-Leninism, Revolutionary struggles of the workers of all lands. Our revolution is based on the proletariat The only thoroughly revolutionary class. Proletariat is the gravedigger of the Bourgeoisie and all exploiting systems. Our songs are songs of proletarian struggle, Of revolution and sacrifice. Come one and all and sing for the future, The victory of revolution is on the horizon. (Chorus) We sing for the future Proletarians of all lands We unite and fight together For revolution and socialism We sing for the future Proletarians of all lands We unite and fight together For the victory of communism. (Verse 3) Sur son lit de mort lancien ordre vomit la Décadence et le parasitisme sans limites. Il apporte le désastre à lhumanité, Il mène contre le progrés une lutte acharnée. Affligé de maladie, ce systéme est en crise, Avec la crise économique à la base; Dévastation spirituelle et culturelle, La crise est sociale et politique aussi. Au milieu de ce monde agonisant, Les prolétaires de tous les pays combattent. Les millions dopprimés se soulèvent Revendiquent leur libération sociale et nationale. 2. Sad Days Bad Days (7:35) W. Cardew/S. Moore These are sad days Baby Optimus Long cold empty days, lean, defiant, surly days. Sad days, now dead days By bullet found The die hard sprawls grotesquely. Screamed and fell, kill rush on To mediocrity swear Allegiance. By mediocrity scream and fall. Yea it were, found crouching, still as target Position soon reloaded By friends by foe all lived alike in human society. We, you, they fell under persistent, Could one say elegant, raids? No, no, not even particulary clever More lumpen, crude, as has been said, a hammer. Theres rub, Lets be fair, did we have a choice? Ill say not, the machine tolls on, on, on The heavy metal head, the iron clump Lifts on steam, and falls thump! But then, however subtle Still comes from out the coal fired However stunted or pre-born deformed However uglyed by smoke tarred creases Fingernails grimed, lifeline flowing blackened greases, The man with the can of lubricating oils. You may laugh, the troll, the doings Conscripted Opened up, like borders, like markets to, well whose, bidding? Not mine, and probably not yours, Baby. Mr Oh. Neither you nor me like talk Conspiracy Thats the easy, but it is conspiracy of sorts, of time of history. Its certainly not hard to wear the garment titled Vested Interests. Aye, squally times as Empires ebb and flow. Unlike your man, I think, never once and for all gone, dead, die Methinks Priams slash and gore as Troys rise t meet their foes. What say you Cassandras, most beautiful of daughters, role in apocryphal; are they that? Now, to our glass o fractional distillate, Clear like zipped electric in cable powered cities Raised, not through indifference, no dont say that, No, more like slow-mo drift of alcoholic soothing The drip, drip, drip of icy public measures. 3. What Have We Done (4:37) W. Cardew/S. Moore Under mask bacchanal Vices, defects, blemishes Maliciously noted The laughing moralist: What have we done? We got drunk, went on a real bender Now its time to sober up. Under freedom and equality of days The vanquished nations of the earth Placed in just order on the earth Their table spread below For tyrants who disgrace the word tyrant And seek society of men called gods. We seek a reckoning Or, seeking us, reckoning leaves facts dissembled If facts there are in regions under moons and stars called floods. However, no-matter, trouble sought, for some has been a harvest. And under noble guise proclaim they, a doctrine transparent Surely clear, nothing hidden or to hide. Indeed it would be said that only good can, or could, And that led by paths no-longer apparent, or gloomy Ill illumined despite technologies rich electric bounty, to should. So this then is why Spotlighted as we said; After-all how could we free of decades, plural, luminosity Do not all subjects live under sun Cannot believe that any humans left our solar system Even if some travelled far bove terra firma Some even thus, stepped, onto earths satellite Its permanent dark side passed over, was not lit by any other star But the bright side, explored, Found empty, was abandoned Leaving nothing much than flags To stake a claim to some future, unknown, exploitation. So what some mayve claimed frivolous Even decadent, to others no doubt was just the opposite. Two faces it is, one, just so, la, reflects. Then other, as you see, absorbs, ah, ha. Like man, who sits, pale functionary, devising means Beneath fluorescents, plans, he sits, he sifts. Was it he came up with nettle that stings? And worse, its hurt through gentle, The act of brushing, stroking, milky skin. Torture man, call him like, feels good, someone suffers Tonight under flesh, their white chocolate layer, red rose petal Barbs, fish hook the, invade Extract information solidify suspicion Of where to go, who see and, simple, what will. Whats dark is light, most certainly lighter Fat dollop the scoop the fat, of cocoa butter, Into comforting bar cross back the head. Of security, he dips then licks his finger tips. 4. Our Sometime Fathers (2:02) W. Cardew/S. Moore Our sometime fathers did conceive That to be lost, but of our time Was something not in the slightest bit profound. So not lost in time, but in space In movement from here to there Is what they called our fate. Said we start our journey Slouched in carrions boat at birth And drift of a life but jounrney from shingle shore To an ashen shore. Where start less clear perhaps, Less consequence, than where perhaps we end Perhaps though did they say that Its way was fixed, no more than pitch and roll That gave impression of chosen sway, The willed weave of petrol driven chariot? Then say our contempary choo-choo train Billowing charnel smoke, May clickety-clack, dictate along its track But that is all it does for all its puff and pant And hustle-bustle haste. Well did they? Did they see it like that? That you couldnt miss your boat. Not all, surely, even then? Some would contend, its true, "You think too much. Simply an opinion. We speak plain." Theyd say. "Why make us feel so bad?" Why indeed? It seems strange to utter such confusion, upset all and sundry, Whats the point of trouble? |