To visit Martin's writing website, press here.



To visit Martin's songwriting website, press here.


November 20, 2011

Chains of Gold: rap against the Wall



Politically inconsistent. I am often glad for serious moderate competent people running things (like the new Monti government in Italy), but my impulse would be toward drastic immediate radical upheaval. Things are so bad! Things are so bad? Compared, say, to the Middle Ages? Compared, say, to an ideal world?

In a moment of certainty, I wrote this rap about the most interesting movement in decades. And happily it’s not even organized. There’s no head honcho, just a bunch of pissed-off people who won’t go away. We haven’t all lost our moral compass.

chorus:  Chains of gold, bought and sold, chains of gold in a stranglehold
Lose your blindfold, you just been rolled, they stole your payroll and sold your household.
The rich never pay, we pay every day.

Gold in rings, rings in rings, forming strings of shiny things
Chains of fun, glittering sun, I want one, I want two for one
Two three four, count out more, more and more, you credit whore
I want my chains, I can’t abstain, it takes no brains, cigars champagne, to maintain this gangsta domain (Wall Street gangsta, that is)
It’s a human trait, what makes us great, you eat a full plate, an’ load on the weight
Weigh me down, oh golden crown, pool of money, I want to drown
Go down, underground, where the gold is found.

Wall street, your elite street, where you cheat neat, now our sweet street
Main street, mean street, easy street, sleazy street,
Your deceit, your conceit, listen to the flock bleat:
You’re obsolete, you’re obsolete, man, get out of the way if you can’t lend a hand
Who’s to blame? Here’s your name:
Citigroup, Bank of A., Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae
Morgan Stanley, GMAC, General Motors, AIG
JP … Morgan Chase, Wells Fargo, disgrace
Goldman Sachs, Merrill Lynch, and old Bear Stearns,
Wachovia, watch the Lehman Brothers burn,
Burn, Money, Burn! Wall Street Fire Sale!
Investment bankers in my rhyme, say, “Brother, can you spare a dime?”
Traders on welfare, o.d.ed on their junk bonds, another big scare for the upper echelons
When we cut your chains of gold, watch your golden parachutes implode
Flying bankers, lost their anchors, we saved your asses, you still rich bastards,
We paid your debt, with our sweat, think we’re pissed off? You ain’t seen nothing yet.
99%, 99%, can’t afford a lobbyist, can’t pay the rent
Tax the rich, the wherewithal, Arab spring, New York fall
Break down the walls, open the halls, fight for your future in the Wall Street brawls
Sick of your greed, heed our need, you see that bull, now watch the stampede!

Globalization against our nation, we invented our own ruination:
Sub-prime mortgage, Ponzi scheme, Corporatocracy, American Dream
Toxic hedge funds, Matrix scheme, Bubbles and scams: the American Dream
Like Uncle Sam is now Scrooge McDuck, screw your neighbors, what the fuck?
We work for peanuts like hamsters on a wheel, for the Madoffs to steal
Wheel and deal, bow and kneel, believe your own spiel, spin the big wheel
Banking fees, got us on our knees, credit card debt, but we’re not dead yet
Lower pensions, lower wages, fewer benefits, smaller cages
Life.com, the assembly line, lining their pockets, never mine
Dwight D. Eisenhower warned, when the military-industrial complex was born
Evil child, mean and wild, don’t be beguiled, by its gentle smile
You broke the unions, you broke the youth, your Fox News sluts broke the truth
Permatemping not professions, time has come for major concessions
If you won’t give a living wage, you’re the one who set the stage
Bars on the banks, bars on the doors, doors on the bars say come in, drink some more
Hey man, if you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention.
Who me? Who me? I’m the sleeping giant nation.
And you just woke me up!

Homeland security, economic purity, democratic assembly, a sign of maturity
Our Declaration of Independence, the beginning is near, a compassionate world, with no more fear
I am not a number, I am a free man, (ha ha ha) not your property, not your brand
End war, feed the poor, war’s a racket, don’t back it,
Rebuild the dream, that’s the theme
Let’s turn this whole world around, okay?
Nation build in the USA:
1,2,3,4
Easy to see what we’re fighting for:
Healthcare for all
Environmental overhaul
Jobs with dignity
Educational quality
So occupy everything, everywhere, Oakland, Pittsburg, Wilmington, Delaware
It’s our country, it’s our government, we’re the people, the 99%
Peaceful protest is a right, you cops know we’re not here to fight
We’re occupied days and nights, defending our free speech rights
Can you hear us now? Can you hear us now?
How much noise till you awake?
How much pushing does it take?
To break these chains of gold.

Want to hear it? It's on myspace:   http://www.myspace.com/emartinpedersen

Happy trials, Martin


Mutt: You up for a good one?
Jeff: No, I'm up for the one you're going to tell no matter what.
Mutt: One day, an elderly woman was walking along the street, coming home from the supermarket. Her bag of groceries was especially heavy that day, and as she passed Nathan Hale's Used Cars, she got an idea that she could drive herself to the store and save a lot of shoe leather, time and aching muscles. She walks into the car dealership and, as it just so happens, gets the owner himself. He asks her what kind of car she wants and she replies,
  "Well, sonny, I can't remember the name exactly, but it has something to do with hate or anger."
  The owner replies, "Well, let's see... Oh yes, you want a Plymouth Fury! We have a couple on the lot. What color do you prefer?"
  The lady has some trouble explaining the exact color to him, so she reaches into her shopping bag, takes out an ear of corn, strips down the shucks and says, "I want this color sonny."
  To which Nathan replies, "Ma'am I'm sorry, but we don't have any in this color. Could I show you a nice blue one?"
  "No son, I want this color."
  "But ma'am, they didn't make that color! Maybe a cherry red one would suit you?" says the owner, obviously worried about losing a sale.
  By this time, the old lady gets mad, and starts throwing things at the owner, thereby chasing him out of the office and into the lot. One of the salesmen, coming into the office from the back door, notices the disruption and asks the secretary what the old woman was so upset about.
  The secretary replies, "Apparently, Hale hath no Fury like the woman's corn!"
Jeff: I should have stayed in bed this morning.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

hi to all www.emartinpedersen.comers this is my frst post and thought i would say hello to you all -
thanks speak soon
garry m

Anonymous said...

very good!

Anonymous said...

I Love It!