American Fight Songs, by Charles Carreon

Identified as a trouble maker by the authorities since childhood, and resolved to live up to the description, Charles Carreon soon discovered that mischief is most effectively fomented through speech. Having mastered the art of flinging verbal pipe-bombs and molotov cocktails at an early age, he refined his skills by writing legal briefs and journalistic exposes, while developing a poetic style that meandered from the lyrical to the political. Journey with him into the dark caves of the human experience, illuminated by the torch of an outraged sense of injustice.

Re: American Fight Songs, by Charles Carreon

Postby admin » Sat Oct 05, 2013 7:41 pm

IT'S GONNA GET WORSE (BEFORE IT GETS BETTER), by Charles Carreon



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Well the flood came down
Took the house away
Wouldn’t you know
That the porch would stay
On that beat up couch
With the cigarette burns
I can just sit here
While the world turns

And it’s gonna get worse
Before it gets better
I heard the guv’mnt lady say
Before she drove away
In her guv’mnt car
She was a real go-getter
But she never came back this way
I hope the neighbors didn’t catch her

Well eventually they brought some trailers in
Of formaldehyde, plastic and tin
I moved indoors one summer day
Now they wanna take it all away
I signed all the forms
And said what can I do?
They said maybe you can stay
A month or two

But it’s gonna get worse
Before it gets better
Money doesn’t grow on trees
And people aren’t honeybees
Yeah it always gets worse
Before it gets better
That’s what they always say
Forever and a day

Like Napoleon said at Waterloo
When the story’s wrote
Then you’re through
You can bitch and moan
You can cry and weep
Sign a gov’mnt loan
Get a repayment sheet

But it always gets worse
And it rarely gets better
There’s a bigger force in play
I heard that preacher say
Before they burned his church
And the weather got wetter
There’s always hell to pay
At least ‘till judgment day
‘Cause it’s gonna get worse
Before it gets better
So I take five shots a day
And now you’ll hear me say
It was worse
But now it's gotten better

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IT'S TANTRA BABY, by Charles Carreon



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Drink More Milk, by Tara Carreon (with thanks to Federico Fellini's "Temptations of Dr. Antonio")

If your life is plagued with discord,
and you can't get out of bed,
If you're hungover with sadness
and wish that you were dead,
If you've got a forty-five
pointed up against your head,
Then you might as well
become a Buddhist
And save a little lead.

Well if you dig the Mahayana
You don't have to cut your hair
And if you chant a little now
You'll have nothing to fear
When death comes strolling down the aisle
And extends his hand to you,
You'll say "my ticket's paid today,
So what more can I do?"

The Dharma's just for losers
At least that's what the Siddha said
When he rolled the final snake eyes
With the eyeballs from his head
And dakinis started cackling
Like buzzards in the sky
Then he clicked his heels
And grabbed his chick
And flew away on high.

It's Tantra, baby, on the hoof
Too hot to try to sell,
And if you don't believe me
We'll discuss it all in hell.
The family is twisted,
That's known around these parts,
The men will steal your car
While the women break your heart.

The crossing signs are switched up
All around this place,
When you play it, it's a Joker,
Though you swore you drew an Ace,
And the hit men play with apple pies
The girls are made of stone
And every word that flies about
Is sure to break a bone.

The guides have all gone crazy
In this place where travel's free,
There's nothing more amazing
Than to see one in a tree,
Laughing like a psycho
With his head inside a box
You'd swear he'd never heard
That little kids get chicken pox.

It's Tantra, baby, grab a bite
And hang on to your hat,
We'll feed you magic potions
And lay you on a mat,
We'll dance around you wildly
With flowers in our hair
And when you wake in our place
You are a billionaire.
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Re: American Fight Songs, by Charles Carreon

Postby admin » Sat Oct 05, 2013 7:49 pm

JAIL TALE, by Charles Carreon



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When I was a little boy
On my daddy's knee
He told me we were livin'
In a democracy

Then I went off to high school
And took a civics class
They said the three-party system
Kicked socialism's ass

Now I'm paying taxes
And voting like I should
Won't somebody tell me
Why it don't do no good

We got a nut in the White House
Who thinks he's Jesus Christ
He thinks he died already
And this is paradise

Well you can call up the Congress
But it don't do no good
They're totally useless
Like a gun made of wood

So I went to the courthouse
And the Chief Justice said
That the Bill of Rights
Was officially dead.

Well I went to the preacher
I said this cannot be
He said son do not say that
It's perilous, you see

He said you see that statue
It's got a hidden bug
It's not the good Lord watchin'
The hawk has killed the dove

I said is nothing sacred?
He said not that I know
So I took my donation
And said I had to go

Next I went to the doctor
I said what's going on?
Has everyone gone crazy?
Don't tell me nothing's wrong

He said I ran all the tests
The results are sure
Everyone's stone deaf
And there is just no cure

So I went to the banker
Said what's the price of gold?
He said we don't stock that
It's under central control

But if you want some credit
I'll give it to you cheap
And then he smiled like the devil
Gave me the terminal creeps

So I went to the girl
Who walks the neighborhood streets
She said don't bother asking
I'm all out of treats

I said you must be kidding
At least you could be real
She said I'm giving up now
There's nothing left to steal

So I went to the airport
To get a ticket to fly
They said hey no way man
He's on the list, all right

They called security quickly
They put me in this can
And now I'm so glad to see you
We need to make a plan

Yeah but don't let 'em hear you
Here, just give me your hand
When night-time comes we'll make some plans
When the guard's asleep we'll make some plans.
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Re: American Fight Songs, by Charles Carreon

Postby admin » Sat Oct 05, 2013 7:51 pm

LET'S GO BACK TO THE DAYS OF DIALUP, by Charles Carreon



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I grew up without the Internet
And I ain’t never found a use for it yet
Yep, a horse and buggy is good enough
For a person who needs to move their stuff

Yeah, let’s go back to the days of dialup
We’ll get all the citizens riled up
Remembering about the good old days,
Good enough for me is the way it should stay.

When I get a look at that Internet porn
It makes me wanna blow my horn
It’s mighty hard to look the other way
When every pretty face just wants to play

So let’s go back to the days of dialup
The folks around here are all riled up
It wasn’t this way in the good old days
So let’s turn back the clock and quit the rat race

Yeah they’re all wrapped up in this fiber net
Never seen no good from it yet
Too many bills already to pay
What’s a poor local fellow to say?

But let’s go back to the days of dialup
Me and my friends are all riled up
You don’t need nothing we don’t understand
And we all agree it was a terrible plan

They say there ain’t no solution, we can’t fix nothin’
Can’t fire nobody or get an answer to a question
They must think we’re stupid or just don’t care
How much we pay for light and air

So let’s go back to the days of dialup
All say “aye” and stand up
Don’t have to understand when you know what you’re doin’
And I’m pretty darned sure it’s not myself I’m screwin’

We’re headed back to the days of dialup
Better get used to sayin’ “giddy-up,”
’Cause the past was fast, but the future will be slower.
You can honk your horn, but we won’t pull over.
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Re: American Fight Songs, by Charles Carreon

Postby admin » Sat Oct 05, 2013 7:54 pm

LONE MADMAN, by Charles Carreon



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On a streetcorner in history
There’s a lonely figure standing
His hands shoved in his pockets
His face uncomprehending

What’s going on inside that head
With eyes in hollow sockets
He loads himself with anger
And takes off like a rocket

Now history will know his name
In infamy, he’ll take the blame
He’s locked and loaded, target set,
And smokes a final cigarette

He’s a lone madman
Takin’ matters into his own hands
He pulls the trigger
Others fire
Like a bunny caught in razor wire
He’s a lone madman
Part of someone else’s plan
A sacrificial effigy
To hijack human destiny

He’s small of stature,
Large of heart
Determined he will play his part
His mind is like a pistol grip
To those who know to seize on it

Maneuvered into place with care
Convinced to do what none would dare
He’s handled like a dumb device
That will do the job and pay the price

Now history will know his name
Who cares if he is called insane
His eyes are fixed, his jaw is set
A human shark in a wire net

He’s a lone madman
Takin’ matters into his own hands
He pulls the trigger
Others fire
Like a bunny caught in razor wire
He’s a lone madman
Part of someone else’s plan
A sacrificial effigy
To hijack human destiny

Who set him up?
Who took him down?
Who’s headed for another town?
With his knock-down rifle
And expense account?
So much cash he doesn’t need to count?
Who calls the shots?
Who makes the plans?
Who picks the targets
That must bleed
Who teaches the assassin’s creed

To lone madmen
In Dallas, Athens, Salvador
Who feeds their madness more and more
He builds the bomb
They light the fuse
As it ignites they’re consumed
Another lone madman
Who didn’t have a plan
Just a sacrificial effigy
To hijack human destiny

Another lone madman
He didn't have a plan
Just a sacrificial effigy
To hijack human history
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Re: American Fight Songs, by Charles Carreon

Postby admin » Sat Oct 05, 2013 7:57 pm

MOTHER'S DAY, by Charles Carreon



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I was a young kid out of high school
Way too soon
She was a willow-wand
Blonde as the sun
The world was a hot place
With water here and there
The shade of the cool trees
Was always where
We would love
With the innocence of childhood,
With an angelic grace
We would love
Away all the hours that we could take
We would love
Like innocent flowers
In eternal embrace
It's time for love
So throw off the chains,
Don't be afraid to say

The kids come along then
And love fills the room
Her heart is open
to every little wound
She feels what they suffer,
She makes it her own pain,
And the only reward she asks
Is to do it all again

Out of love
with an innocence of childhood
with an angelic grace
It's just love
She has in abundance
It shows in her face
A mother's love
Is the one sure thing
You'll take from this place
A mother's love
A mother's love
A mother's love

You can buy her a card, son,
Or any little thing
Just one thing you must not
Forget to bring
Your innocent smile now,
Your loving face
That's the only treasure
That can't be replaced
She needs love
'Cause she has given all
She had to you
Wants your love
There's no other thing
That you have to do
You need to give
To the one who gave to you
A mother's love
A mother's love
A mother's love
A mother's love

Don't buy her a card, son,
That's not quite the thing
Unless it's got love, son,
No joy can it bring
Bring her a flower
A kindly word
Ease her hours as she fades
Into the waning of the day

Yeah, I'm just an old guy
But I know what I say
A mother's love will not fade away
No her love
Will not fade
Not today, not tomorrow,
Not any other day
A mother's love
lasts forever
Until that happy day
When she finds her own mother
In that perfect Mother's Day
Mother's Day
Mother's Day
Mother's Day
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Re: American Fight Songs, by Charles Carreon

Postby admin » Sat Oct 05, 2013 8:00 pm

MULTIPLE GUNSHOT SUICIDES, by Charles Carreon



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dedicated to Gary Webb, Judy Barry, Danny Casolaro, and all the other victims of dirty wars against not only human freedom, but basic dignity.

Multiple gunshot suicides,
Too many goddamn of them.
Multiple gunshot suicides,
What do you think about them?

Two bullets to the head,
That muthafucka’s dead.
You can tuck him in one last time
He obviously wasn’t fine,
He’s a multiple gunshot suicide
When the sirens roll,
He’ll take his long, last ride
To the undertaker’s vault,
Well it’s nobody’s fault.
He got mixed up in somethin’
I don’t know nothin’,
But it ain’t nobody’s fault
Anymore.
He’s a multiple gunshot suicide
Time to take him for his long, last ride,
You can write his name in the record books,
But look away now friend,
No long last looks.
He’s a multiple gunshot suicide
Time to bury his name with his shame
He knew he was playin’ a dangerous game,
So when the sirens roll,
He’ll take his long last ride
To the undertaker’s vault,
Well it’s nobody’s fault.
He got mixed up in somethin’.
I don’t know nothin’
But it ain’t nobody’s fault
Anymore.
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Re: American Fight Songs, by Charles Carreon

Postby admin » Sat Oct 05, 2013 8:04 pm

MURDER CZAR, by Charles Carreon



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Well life can put some boulders
In a young man’s way,
No sex, no money, no nothin’ funny,
That’s what they seem to say.

When all roads lead to Paradise
And a credit card for a key
There’s Playboy bunnies and Christmas money,
And nothin’ left to see.

Well a young man craves some action,
Can’t find none on the streets,
And when you’re out of high school
There’s no place to park your feet.

“Till one day on the streets
There comes by in a pimpin’ ride
A man with a plan
And a gun in his hand,
Says boy, won’t ya’ come with me.

He's a military man
He's extending his hand
He wants to take you for a ride
In his long black car.
He's the murder czar.

His path is always secret,
‘Cause need-to-know’s the game.
He’s got your DNA code,
And won't give you his name.

If you serve some time on the pipeline
All this could be yours, son,
With a wink and a clink
And a flash of pink,
It’s all he needs to say.

He's a military man
He's extending his hand
He wants to take you for a ride
In his long black car.
He's the murder czar.

“Just give me the pen,”
You say with a grin,
You think you’ve got some play.
If you’d watched real close
You’d a seen like a ghost
As your freedom slipped away.

Now the bombs are falling
And the devil’s calling
And he’s got your number today.
You’re sure it’s over
Then you live to suffer
One more fucking day.

You’re a military man
You took that fucker’s hand
You let him take you for a ride
In his long black car.
You knew damn well
He was the murder czar.
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Re: American Fight Songs, by Charles Carreon

Postby admin » Sat Oct 05, 2013 8:09 pm

PLANET EARTH, 2008, by Charles Carreon



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Well I never thought
I would make it this far
To see the fall of the wall
And the rise of the Reich

No I never thought
I would have to live
In a brainwashed country
With an enemies list.

Planet Earth, 2008
I know exactly who to blame
You can call them by their real names
They're not ashamed
They think they're the masters
And we're the slaves

Our soldiers break down
A man's front door
Put a gun to his head
And his face to the floor

We always shoot first
And never ask questions
We believe what we're told
And buy what we're sold

Planet Earth, 2008
Our crimes have blotted out our name
In the name of God
We've gone insane
Spilled innocent blood
In Jesus' name

Our leaders are liars
Some say they like it that way
Cheatin', double-dealin'
And gettin' away
But money's made of somethin'
Like the hours of our days
That we grind away
Tryin' to make it pay

Planet Earth, 2008
Hell on earth
In a thousand ways
Could we just stop killing
For one damn day?

Our kids are half-crazy
Black and white
Singin' rap and cheap metal
Every night
Their hope for the future's
Not very bright
They know they've been sold out
They have no rights

Planet Earth, 2008
How long will people have to wait
For the sun to shine
On a decent day
Where the workers smile
And the children play?

Planet Earth, 2008
When the billions rise
It'll have to change
And until that day
There'll be hell to pay

Planet Earth, 2008
I Declare a global holiday
No more bosses after today
Just break the chain
And walk away.
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Re: American Fight Songs, by Charles Carreon

Postby admin » Sat Oct 05, 2013 8:14 pm

PRESIDENT EVIL, by Charles Carreon



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It's night in the West Wing
The lights are still burning
In an oval office
A man walks alone
He's weighed down with worries
Oh you'd like to think
Troop movements and spending
The war neverending
Whether old Scooter Libby
Is going to sing.

But you would be wrong, then
He picks up the phone
And asks the woman who answers,
"Has Colin gone home?"

"Well why would you ask that?"
He says, "Just a joke"
"My whole foreign policy
Went up in smoke"

"Last week in Jordan
It was such a thrill
This sleeping with Laura's
A bitter pill."

President Evil, can't understand
If killing's good for the economy
Why isn't it right?
Why do they plague him
With tiresome demands
The haters who hate him
Just don't understand.

He has a vision
He has a plan
He's going to start surging
Like a real man.

He has his puppets
He pulls all the strings
Chalabi, Alawi, Maliki
And friends

We've got all the oil now
We'll just rig the vote now
Wheel the last of the cash
Right out the back door

President Evil, wonders sometimes
How it's all gone so well,
Yet he's not done yet,

Let them rejoice now
He'll bring the House down
When he picks up
His veto pen.

Pelosi should learn how
To just shut her trap
How can you trust
An Italian like that?

But Karl says she's got her
Tit in a ringer
She can't cut off spending
That's vote suicide

Yes President Evil knows
he's got it right
Depend on the stupids
And call darkness light

He can't be worried
By haters who vote
The people who loved him
Preferred to stay home

Besides, they're still paying
Like donkeys they're braying
That honor's not cheap
So to Iraq they must go.

President Evil, if you only knew
He's as sweet as the sun on a
long afternoon
His kisses like honey
His ass smells like money
That's why people who lick it
Can fill a big room.

President Evil, will not be dethroned
For evil endures
Like a dinosaur's bones
You may not realize it
May think you despise it
But it's waiting for you
Wherever you roam.

President Evil may be the right man
For evil tasks
We just can't understand

So hush now my baby
I'll sing sweet lullabies
While President Evil
Destroys those we despise
Buries their faces
And stifles their cries.
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Re: American Fight Songs, by Charles Carreon

Postby admin » Sat Oct 05, 2013 8:18 pm

PSYCHO SANTA, by Charles Carreon



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("Psycho Santa" Bootleg version here)

(Dedicated to Matthew Inman of the Oatmeal)

[Well, Merry Christmas, Boys and Girls. I hope you've all been good, because Santa is on his way, and the Air Force is reporting. This is Lt. Col. Merriweather from NORAD reporting that we have just sighted an airborne sleigh crossing the dew line. It appears to be drawn by reindeer, and piloted by a jolly looking fellow in a red and white suit ...

... STATIC! ...

No, what is that?

It's not Santa, it's, it's ... Oh, my God ... it's going to tear the Internet a new asshole!

BOMB!]

Well he used to be a pterodactyl up in the sky,
Tearin' people's heads off,
and eatin' their eyes,
But now he's done a change-up,
Got a new disguise --
All Points Bulletin: Look out for this guy!

He's a psycho-Santa with a big bag of tricks,
Ringin' a bell, and beggin' for clicks,
Psycho Santa got a itty bitty stick,
Psycho Santa, don't fall for his schtick.

Particularly dangerous to boys and girls
Who play with computers in the virtual world
He claims to be the hero of the human race,
A relief from their cubicles and bookin' their face.

He's a psycho-Santa with a big bag of tricks,
Ringin' a bell, and beggin' for clicks,
Psycho Santa got a itty bitty stick,
Psycho Santa, don't fall for his schtick.

His prehistoric origin's a mystery --
Did he escape from the lavatory?
Was he made by the Pentagon and NSA
A living drone that shoots mind rays,
Makin' zombies of his followers --
Internet slaves!

He's a psycho-Santa with a big bag of tricks,
Ringin' a bell, and beggin' for clicks,
Psycho Santa got a itty bitty stick,
Psycho Santa, don't fall for his schtick.

When cornered he will strike back with a vicious blow,
There is no depth to which he will not go.
Do not attempt to apprehend --
Type "King Kong," then hit Send.

He's a psycho-Santa with a big bag of tricks,
Ringin' a bell, and beggin' for clicks,
Psycho Santa got a itty bitty stick,
Psycho Santa, don't fall for his schtick.

He can revert to his original form at will.
X-Men got nothin' he can't kill.
Only a simian of similar size
Can pluck the Pterodactyl out of the skies.

He's a psycho-Santa with a big bag of tricks,
Ringin' a bell, and beggin' for clicks,
Psycho Santa got a itty bitty stick,
Psycho Santa, don't fall for his schtick.
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