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 system’s 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 l’ancien ordre vomit la
Décadence et le parasitisme sans limites.
Il apporte le désastre à l’humanité,
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 d’opprimés 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.
There’s rub,
Let’s be fair, did we have a choice?
I’ll 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
That’s the easy, but it is conspiracy of sorts, of time of history.
It’s 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 don’t 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 it’s 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 human’s left our solar system
Even if some travelled far ’bove terra firma
Some even thus, stepped, onto earth’s 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 may’ve 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. What’s 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 carrion’s 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 couldn’t miss your boat. Not all, surely, even then?
Some would contend, it’s true,
"You think too much. Simply an opinion.
We speak plain." They’d say.
"Why make us feel so bad?" Why indeed?
It seems strange to utter such confusion, upset all and sundry,
What’s the point of trouble? | 