Roy Harper - Come Out Fighting Ghengis Smith lyrics

The social game we live in is based on possession And if you think you own a body then you're playing But if you think you own anything you must be mad And if you think that you're owned - well you're raving So come on now my friends let us kneel and pray Let us stick all our hands tight together For I want to tell you about your God Who brings you your life's possessions and disaster Now if he was inconceivable then how can he exist? When that word has the same meaning as the word 'nothing'? And he who thinks he knows what the word 'nothing' means Has only his own excuse for an answer And if he is conceivable he must be just like us For he must have a conceivable being And if he's got being he must have life And if he's living he must also be dying But he was the cla**room at Aberfan He was the teachers and the little children And he was all the mud that covered them He was the sky, the school, the whole damn mountain But it makes me sick to have to sing you all this When I know that when you were born you had it Well society might buy its gods and power But in its present state, well it's never gonna buy anything honest Me and my friends, tell you what we're gonna do It's really no secret now that we are telling you We're collecting the Autumn leaves Taking them home to the coal-fire scenes And spending the snow-time painting them green Ready for you all to see again in the Springtime And if you think that either of us is right or wrong Then there's only one thing we do have in common We're both fighting for the very same breath For very, very different reasons Well the sky is blue and the day is long And you ask me what there's left to believe in Well, I say just hold what you feel in all your eyes And give a big, broad smile to the world your pa**ing And if you think you're a 'Pop-star' you can come and laugh at me And you can call me all the shades of half-wit sceptic But if you're no nearer now to just being you Then both of us might just as well forget it In this song I've said "I" about ten times On the record you could count many others But I don't need wealth and I don't want fame And I'll never need to count on my brothers And if you still think that either of us is right or wrong Then there's only one thing we do have in common Well, we both happen to be fighting for the very same breath What did you say were your reasons? So me and my friends - tell you what we're gonna do It's really no secret now that we are telling you We're collecting the falling dreams Taking them home to the coal-fire scenes And spending the snow-time painting them green Ready for you all to see again in the Springtime Well Auntie Sally's coming back to life yesterday And she's gonna ask me what the hell it is I'm singing Well I tell you, it's an unimpressive song Really, but it's fifty one ages long But you know, well you know Jack I guess I'm not the only one who's singing Well, I'm sorry I've not written before now, Jack You know...but that's it, man. There's something here anyway that I think you'll like- Dig this lot: Ghengis Smith was a silly old fool and a silly old fool was he. He mauled for his dough and he bawled for his god And he called for his little cup of tea "Oooooh Mum", he said. "Does God go to bed? Or is he a rich man too?" She said, "In a minute, my son, I'll box your bloody ears for you" "What do you mean I'm a terrible queen? I'll have you know your Dad If he hadn't have died of 'athlete's brain' Would have driven you twice as mad" Old Ghengis Smith was not deterred He bought himself a gun.... "I've got one eye on God", he said "But that ain't nothing, man It's the other mother It's focussed on some good clean gun fun" The gun fun escalated and the game just wasn't fun As mother wept onto a**orted pieces of her son But never mind he left his child (we've got his son) We'll bring him up the same And he can die too, then like a man, yes in the very next blood-game And so the game is played out on the sinking Wigan pier With bra** bands round the gravestones so that no one can quite hear The prophets and the gentle people's feelings that are lost Inside the ringing cauldron of the crashing holocaust Farewell to you, Dear Ghengis Smith, I'd help you if I could But there's nothing I could have told you that you'd have understood And there's nothing I could have told you that would have done you any good And "Hey there, is there much more room down there? All I can see is mud."