Propagandhi - Fixed Frequencies lyrics
[Propagandhi - Fixed Frequencies lyrics]
Here in the land that Abraham
Was promised to receive
We listen to you catechize
From your pulpit overseas
You mourn the proof of our barbarity
Dry your eyes
Oh Pharisee we both speak a settler’s can't
We both read from the same old played
Out scripts and hum familiar tunes
Broadcast on fixed frequencies
Stuck in locking grooves
We both profess noble intent
As we civilize human impediments
If your hands are clean then noblesse oblige
That you wipe those "who me?" looks
Off of your faces and concede
Our designs are separated by
Nothing more than place and time
Different scenes, same crimes
Pray, let him without sin cast
The first statues of
Former rogues turned folk heroes
That your grandfathers hung
Don't lecture me about plundered soil
While you loaf upon your father's spoils
We want nothing more than
What you already have:
A comforting of exculpatory "facts"
Like, say, the myth of an empty land
And a conquest so complete
We can pull these tanks from our streets and
Hand the loose ends over to bureaucrats
And become just like you
Lounging carefree in cafes, absolved from sin
And human grenades entre nous
How did your desert bloom?
Was promised to receive
We listen to you catechize
From your pulpit overseas
You mourn the proof of our barbarity
Dry your eyes
Oh Pharisee we both speak a settler’s can't
We both read from the same old played
Out scripts and hum familiar tunes
Broadcast on fixed frequencies
Stuck in locking grooves
We both profess noble intent
As we civilize human impediments
If your hands are clean then noblesse oblige
That you wipe those "who me?" looks
Off of your faces and concede
Our designs are separated by
Nothing more than place and time
Different scenes, same crimes
Pray, let him without sin cast
The first statues of
Former rogues turned folk heroes
That your grandfathers hung
Don't lecture me about plundered soil
While you loaf upon your father's spoils
We want nothing more than
What you already have:
A comforting of exculpatory "facts"
Like, say, the myth of an empty land
And a conquest so complete
We can pull these tanks from our streets and
Hand the loose ends over to bureaucrats
And become just like you
Lounging carefree in cafes, absolved from sin
And human grenades entre nous
How did your desert bloom?