Wednesday, October 18th, 2006
Beefeater (1984-1986) was one of the flagship Revolution Summer bands in Washington, DC. Led by fiery singer Tomas Squip, guitar player Fred Smith and bass player Dug E. Bird they concocted a punk/metal/funk hybrid (with a dash of reggae as well) and took over the stage. They also brought a political element into the DC scene. Something that had not really been delved into by the original class of HarDCore bands.
The lyrics I bring forth today are from the bands song â€˜Beefeaterâ€™ which Squip describes as â€œA dialogue between the subject and its conscience, then myself and the subjectâ€.
Sit down to this and close your eyes(if youâ€™re doing wrong youâ€™re not alone)
sweep those thoughts right out of your mind
(thereâ€™s no place like hell but thereâ€™s no place like home)
settle down and doze awhile
(it couldnâ€™t be right but whoâ€™s to say so)
while youâ€™re eating that let me see you smile
(everyone else is doing it you know)
let me run down to the store for a pound of meat
make yourself at home
the flowers are blooming and the birds are all out
(you canâ€™t catch me cause iâ€™m lost in a crowd)
let me think of something nice to write about
(everythingâ€™s smiling for crying out loud)
the sky is like water, the clouds are like snow
(its a beautiful day so lets think real slow)
its great to be alive if they tell you so
(i close my eyes and away we go)
i hope it was good it was $2.99
now pay no mind while i run through this rhyme:
a life in a box with no place to piss
looks something like this
an innocent body slung by its heels
molested by chainsaws think how that feels
my mothers creation done nobody wrong
get shot with a gun, you know this song?
a four legged loser born in a trap
with less then a future this sound like crap?
a new born is crying why am i alone?
a mother is dying cut to the bone
sleep on this when you go to bed
(to be led down a hallway and crushed in the head)
and never live at all
a chrome plated graveyard, a ceramic tomb
a sad rivers running, of blood, for whom?
to be all alone, to call a slaughterhouse home
lets say it donâ€™t happen lets just forget itÂ
thereâ€™s no place like home
where the deer and the antelope roam
to call a slaughterhouse home?
merrily merrily merrily merrily
life is but a dream
sleep it off!
Time, I absolve myself of your vow to vanquish me.