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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
[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.
It was the Night before Christmas And all down the road, The truckers were pulling Their Chinese loads
Haulin' that crap To Wal-Mart and such So we can bury our kids Under a mountain of junk
Only assholes hate Christmas Least that's what they said And when he heard it a lightbulb burned out in his head
He flipped into overdrive And picked up his suit He was a jolly old fella With bombs in his boots
He was a Suicide Santa With tears in his eyes For his message to the world He was happy to die Suicide Santa Doo, doo, doo, doo Suicide Santa Doo, doo, doo, doo
Well he made a long list Of bad boys and girls We'd be better off losing From this great big world
Millionaires, Billionaires, Trillionaires, friends Bankers and lawyers The ones who know best
He tucked that list in his suicide vest, Headed out on the freeway To the Vegas strip
He was dressed real nicely for his final act Wasn't gonna stick around for a heart attack
He was a Suicide Santa With tears in his eyes For his message to the world He was happy to die Suicide Santa Doo, doo, doo, doo Suicide Santa Doo, doo, doo, doo
He called himself in to 911 Said he was headed for Caesar's to have some fun Loaded for bear, let the SWAT team come, They're welcome to die, every goddamn one Security parted like the Damn Red Sea When Moses stretched out his rod, you see, He was a smilin' mass of notoriety
He was a Suicide Santa With tears in his eyes For his message to the world He was happy to die Suicide Santa Doo, doo, doo, doo Suicide Santa Doo, doo, doo, doo
He cleared out the dealers From the gambling hall To the poor broke players He gave it all
He told the band to play White Christmas, and to the showgirls said sit down, saying, "I'm not ready yet to blow this town"
That seemed to relax the tension a notch He lit himself a stogie And asked for some scotch With his boots on the table, He savored a sip And said to the cameras "What a helluva trip," Here I threaten to kill 'em Now I'm in the chips"
Cause I'm a Suicide Santa But I'm not insane It's just lately This terrible pain We'll all have to suffer for the mess they made So I'm a Suicide Santa Doo, doo, doo, doo A Suicide Santa Doo, doo, doo, doo
Then he pulled an alarm clock From one of his boots Hooked a wire up to it and then said "Boo!"
The people fell back And moved for the door Except one old chick A used-up whore
She said if you don't mind I'll sit with you As far as I could tell This show's about through
He pulled out a chair And poured her a shot He said, "At this here table We bet the whole damn pot."
'Cause I'm a Suicide Santa And on Christmas Day We'll light these candles In a magic way Convert the doubters And believers, too Show 'em the shimmy Like we used to do
'Cause I'm a Suicide Santa, And it's Christmas Day, You can push my button Any goddamn day 'Cause I'm a Suicide Santa Yeah, yeah, yeah Suicide Santa Yeah yeah yeah
Well it was all over Google On Christmas Day How Suicide Santa Made his getaway
From the rooftops of Vegas Where he hitched a ride In a stolen copter That flew outta sight
Flying over the mountains Last seen heading north As fast as Mel Gibson In a speeding Porsche
He leaned out the window With his Newlywed wife Smilin' like Elvis Under the lights He said "Merry Christmas And to all a good night May good boys and girls Learn how to not fight
'Cause I'm a Suicide Santa And it's Christmas Day I've got my toys, So now it's time to play I'm Suicide Santa Yeah, yeah, yeah Suicide Santa Ho, ho, ho
I'm a Suicide Santa And it's Christmas Day I've got my toys, Now it's time to play-heh-heh yeah
Well you say You're the Congress Whatever that means We'll ask Gonzales When he's done eatin' beans You gave me a bill With time limits in it So I'll veto that shit And send it back to the Senate And don't you step on my Old Veto You can do anything, But don't forget about my Old Veto.
Well I done decided You know that's it The troops are gonna stay Where I say The chips are gonna fall Wherever they may I'll raise the stakes higher 'Cause that's how I play But don't 'ya Forget my Old Veto You can enact what you want I'll just give it the Old Veto.
Well they say the nation's Turning blue again I'll prove that false With a stroke of my pen There is no power Like the one to say no So loot, motherfuckers, now go go go We got 'em with the Old Veto They can't do a damn thing When I give them the Old Veto.
Well, I've blown Iraq But I won't admit it I'm after Iran And I just won't quit it Just try and stop me I'm on the run The light is red That means fun, fun, fun So watch out, I'll use the Old Veto I'll run you down in the street With my Old Veto
Yeah, the Constitution Is a mighty fine thing At least for me, For you it stinks 'Cause I'm the Chief I'm at the top I keep the buck movin' So it never stops And when I lose I use the Old Veto. I just tell 'em where to stuff it And hit 'em with the Old Veto. Yeah, they'll never know what hit 'em When I hit 'em with the Old Veto.
They're looking so pretty, tonight Coiffed and suited just right All of their sound bites prepared Schooled on the issues, a little bit scared
They will cross swords oh so light Blades barely meeting and smiles drawn tight Billions will ride on their answers And voters will make their selections.
Still there are times when you just have to wonder Is the whole thing an incredible blunder? While we compare hairstyles, The sky starts to thunder Tornadoes appear on our doorsteps I wonder, are we on the verge of a thousand-year bummer?
No one will touch that, tonight Which is why Gore is nowhere in sight We'll have plenty of style, A side of issues-lite, A sneer from the right,
They're looking so pretty, tonight Sexy, formal, an anchor's delight They'll charm everyone in sight It's like a lamp store in here, it's so bright.
Teeth gleaming, hair sculpted Meticulous cosmetic morphing Into perfect candidates, The kind who never quite debate, At best get testy Are never late
But we must cast our ballots, tonight On what basis? Who knows wrong from right? Let's just be fools for a night, We'll vote, but first turn out the light.
I am a Communist It works so good I couldn't resist I tell my friend Vlad, Vladimir Putin You know we're friends Sure as shootin' I-I Wanna be like you!
We got the world divided Into separate blocks We got nucular suppositories Nucular socks Those other nations can All kiss our ass And while they're doing it We'll pass some gas 'Cause I-I Wanna be like you.
Right-wing bigots They love me, too You fight your terrorists Just like I do Reward your friends Put your enemies under You, my man, Have earned the right to plunder, And I-I Wanna be like you.
Those minor differences Won't get in our way... Iran/Iraq United Nations What the 'hey, 'Cause it's all in a world ruler's day, And if they stuck a mike up to my face Here is what I'd say -- "Yeah, I-I Wanna be like you Yeah, I-I Wanna be like you!"
Hey, did you kiss your sister? Did you go to prep school? Did you kill anyone in the KGB? Don't you wish that you were more successful? Whaddaya think about Condi and me? I think the job is kinda stressful You seem to handle it marvelously So I-I Wanna be like you.
I am a Communist It works so good I couldn't resist I tell my friend Vlad, Vladimir Putin You know we're friends Sure as shootin' I-I Wanna be like you! -- I mean it, man! I-I Wanna be like you!
Well it's another perfect day in the neighborhood With perfect people everywhere Painting picket fences and makin' double lattes, Workin' for the CIA.
There's not a whole lotta places a guy can go To find employment and security. The whole private sector is just a show, A cover for the CIA.
We come in all shapes and sizes Don't you know, Mohamedan, Christian and Jew, Buddhist and Taoist even some of us Believe in Sai Baba, too But under the skin We're all blacker than sin Workin' for the CIA.
Yeah the money's good here And it spends real fine Printed by the CIA, And there's plenty of jobs in interrogation Workin' for the CIA, Ya get to know your neighbors, Ya get to know the truth About a whole lot of things We know about you, Yeah there's a whole lotta perks With a company spot, Workin' for the CIA.
See that guy over there In the cycle shop, And that bum smokin' crack at the old bus stop, That postal employee cleanin' out the box, All workin' for the CIA.
It's just another perfect day In the neighborhood, Developed by the CIA. And if you're not plugged in It might not be so good, I mean with the CIA. So we'll be by again and see just what you think, And remember it's just CIA. CIA.