Alright, so some of you cats have got a funk. You have failed to properly GET YOUR WAR ON. That is understandable for such sweet, sensitive, and hormonally unbalanced people. I am reminded of a song.
As soon as you're born they make you feel small
By giving you no time instead of it all
Till the pain is so big you feel nothing at all
A working class hero is something to be
They hurt you at home and they hit you at school
They hate you if you're clever and they despise a fool
Till you're so fucking crazy you can't follow their rules
A working class hero is something to be
When they've tortured and scared you for twenty-odd years
Then they expect you to pick a career
When you can't really function you're so full of fear
A working class hero is something to be
Keep you doped with religion and sex and TV
And you think you're so clever and classless and free
But you're still fucking peasants as far as I can see
A working class hero is something to be
There's room at the top they're telling you still
But first you must learn how to smile as you kill
If you want to be like the folks on the hill
A working class hero is something to be
If you want to be a hero, well just follow me
- John LennonLast night a bartender called Lou and I "Gentlemen". I replied "Take that back, no landed gentry are we, but mere peasants, and proud of it!"
