A Declaration Of Intent

by Humanifesto

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released 23 September 2005




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Track Name: Artificial Need
Spend their lives living in cages through the ages all for you, and all your selfish wants and desires not thinking what you put them through. And now all I want is for their children's lives to not be spent behind bars, imprisoned to feed your endless greed. Lives lost every day to placate an artificial need: the belief that human life is worth more than other kinds. Open your eyes and see through all the lies we're fed each day, lives are lives regardless of species. Scientists conduct their tests on the effects of chemicals, pills, and radiation without a thought of animal welfare, and now all I want is to burn down their offices, free the prisoners, and firebomb those sadists in their homes. I've seen the fashionistas sporting corpses on their backs; the furs and flesh of lives they've thrown away. And all the leather jackets and those rockin blue suede shoes aren't fucking cool, they're fucking cruel. The leather purse that's hanging off your shoulder holds more than makeup, kleenex, condoms and pocket change, and that strap that's wrapped around your neck is dripping with the blood of slaughtered lives. Injecting antibiotics will do the trick to keep the health of all the animals confined too close to move or breathe or live. And now hormone injections give us full grown animals in half the time to double production and perpetuate holocaust.
Track Name: Break Free
Beliefs breeding hatred, hatred breeding hatred, the chain continues to grow. Another 10,000 sent off to kill for reasons to them unknown. Will they ever see home again? Will the people they meet see home again? Will we ever find a way out of this mess? Why are we still fighting? Why are actions still stronger than words? It's time to put down our weapons and arm ourselves with knowledge. Ignorance is hate, hate is violence, violence is suffering, suffering is apathy, apathy is ignorance, it's just a fucking circle. Break free, break free, be an individual. Break free, break free, stop reciting verses of ignorance.
Track Name: Big Man
Heads smashed as lovers kiss, their affection replaced with blood, as some dickless fuck shows off his ignorance, his intolerance. Amidst confusion, heads still spinning, both still thinking clear. Clear enough to know this wasn't random, it wasn't accidental. So tough. So cool. Later on that night bragging to his friends about the dykes he fucked up on St Denis. They laugh, pat his back, and pour another beer. They'd bashed another queer. Instilling fear. More fear. It was fear that caused it. So we try to deny that this hate permeates to this day, and there's no way we'll give up on this fight or put up with this shit ever again. Meanwhile, back at home, the girls aren't sitting down, and a week later dozens kiss on that same spot. Queers. Fags. Dykes. So where were you then, big man?
Track Name: News From The Front
Like fireworks the explosions light the sky, while planes & guns provide the soundtrack to this fight. Orange skies and rivers red with blood: news from the front on your 54 inch screen. News from the front. Can`t hear them cry 15,000 miles away, infotainment portrays war as a game. Successful bombing of a weapon factory: news from the front in your cozy western homes.
Track Name: On The Streets
There's a kid crying on the street, his hands are dirty and his clothes are worn. The rocks dig in to his shoeless feet, and the passersby look at him with disdain and scorn. Welcome to the future, beautiful, shining bright. Economic prowess brings meaning to our lives. Our machines of profit neglect the cogs below, our bank accounts rise quickly, intelligence so slow. There's a man wiping spit off his face, the life on the street is not the one he had chose. His Harvard MbA now seems such a waste, he lost his job to robots, sometimes that's the way it goes. There's a kid dying on the street, his hands are bloody and his clothes are torn. Beaten by some other kids for scraps he had to eat. Another life is taken so soon after it's born.
Track Name: Trading With The Enemy
Rounding up the chosen ones with censuses and punch cards, efficiency of the utmost importance. Every last one must be found. Nameless and numbered. Gassed, tortured, murdered en masse and quickly with some help from overseas. Some are in for profits, some to cleanse their nation. For the ones deemed unpure - extermination. No one escapes, when they're sorted out they board the train that will lead them to the camp where work will set them free. Dealing with both sides, THINK only about numbers. It's easy to ignore deaths across the pond.
Track Name: Differences
I see racism in the eyes of the people talking on my T.V. screen. Some people are reading the news while others are running countries. But one thing that they have in common: they'll back a country's ceaseless bombing all while singing patriotic songs.Glory Glory Hallelujah, gory gory gonna shoot ya as our troops go marching on. I see tons of faces and as I look around, not one them is black or white just different shades of brown. When will we stop looking for differences in the skin? We've got to realize that differences aren't a sin. We've got to put aside our differences and begin to start to treat each other as human beings. The KKK's still burning crosses, we can't begin to count our losses. Aryans still everywhere, we are living in despair. All you people who think that being white gives you some divine right to trample people everywhere and claim everything for yourself: listen up real close because here's my message that I'll inscribe inside of all your skulls before I die: I don't care if you have a harvard PhD. If you're racist, you're fucking ignorant as can be.
Track Name: Ask/Bid. Sold.
What does it take to make you give in? How much to make you compromise? Where did your money go today, and did it contradict your words? Every belief has its price, all your values can be bought. When you'll want a brand new TV, or when the going will get tough, how will you save those extra dollars, and will it contradict your words? Every person has a price, beliefs sold to the highest bidder.
Track Name: Make It Stop
March 15th 2002: Montrealers rallying against police brutality are struck down by riot forces, beaten and accused of crimes for protesting the true offenders. Everyone put down your guns, use your brain, stop the pain. We have to fight for what is right. We'll make it stop, fuck the cops. They claim they're just doing their job as they push your face against the wall. They think that they're above the laws that they enforce, they've gone too far. Cuffing kids for riding skateboards, kissing the ass of the corporate whores. "To serve and protect" the interests of the people wearing the diamond gloves. Forget about the average person, forget about the lives you're hurting. Arrest the people stealing to survive, ignore the ones committing real crimes. But this oppression doesn't end with cops, you can follow it right up to the top. Hoover set up COINTELPRO to kill opposition (especially in the black community) to the system. Locked away the Angola 3 and Mumia, put away for almost thirty years and they're still there. Not a single shred of evidence to keep them behind bars, no state officials trying to find out who the real killers are. They're happy cuz they've made an example with innocent ones. Keep America dumb.
Track Name: Corporate Sing Along
So it seems that I spent the last couple years screaming at a thick brick wall. I have so many things to say but no one's listening at all. I don't pretend to have all the answers, but I react when something's wrong, instead of mindlessly engaging in this corporate sing-along. Sing-along to the sound of factories mass-producing your deceit, while you tacitly approve shaking your head to the beat. As you support their unfair labor, become a billboard for their greed. The corporate elite has succeeded in turning your wants into needs. Sing along with the advertising jingle written for your kids. Sing along with the diamonds that say "I love you" better than you ever did. Sing along with the single mother who will never get a raise. Sing along with the girl in the sweatshop making 50 cents a day. Sing along.
Track Name: Gifts
There's an imbalance with grave consequence, in this world, it doesn't make much fucking sense. We take from the poor just to give the rich more. The abuse that we've caused can't be ignored anymore. What's the point in lying? There's no use denying, it's not that we can't help them, we're not even trying. We spend more on soldiers, following orders, but there'd be no war if we'd forget our borders. So why, with all the gifts we have, are there still ones who cry? What do we really have when half the world is living in shanty towns and barely living day to day? There's still 41,000 children starving every single day. Ahmet's never learned to read, books and schools are things he just cannot afford, while Michael's crying because cable's out and he's missing his favorite show. And while the people in the US scream the cost of oil is too fucking high, in the Middle East they (the real owners of this oil) are dying. There's still 41,000 children dying every single day.
Track Name: Bullshit Theories
People think I'm addicted to pissing people off, but I'm just trying to make some sense and challenge what I've been taught. You're screaming in my face, but you never listen. Your ideas are all based on bullshit theories. I know It's scary to start anew, and change your way of life: break their rules, ignore conventions, change some fucking minds. This pen is still flowing but your ideas have stopped. Maybe one day you'll listen, I will still be writing.
Track Name: Michael Moron
Stirring up a shit-storm, skewing facts and distorting truths. Pushing your beliefs into the realm of ridicule. Playing the part of the Average Joe exposing corporate lies, but the Awful Truth here is that you're often full shit. There's no point filming when you're fighting lies with lies. You can stop writing there's only so much we can take. Why can't you just educate instead of trying to indoctrinate your left-wing rhetoric? You're like a right-wing fanatic with moment of "clarity", you shove different beliefs down our throats but still you lie to achieve your goals.

Please stop screaming, Fatty, it's not that we don't understand you, but left-wing propaganda is still fucking propaganda. Your campaign of fear and hate against the extreme right reminds me of the bullshit on Fox News every fucking night. You said yourself that politics can make your head spin, so why not leave the picket-line and go back to singing about lesbians and girls with no arms? We'll take over for you. So long, Mike, and thanks for all the shows promoting sweatshop shoes.
Track Name: Death By Exposure
She lay there for weeks before they found her. Bury her as Jane Doe; send her hands to match for prints and lie about the cause of death to halt investigations; you can't miss a bullet hole unless you look the other way. She came to protest, to make her voice heard, and fight against corruption tearing up her nation. Pine Ridge cover-up. Silence those who don't agree. The Bureau's walls still shake when someone says her name. Anna Mae. Her story lives on. The Host World rises to take back what is theirs. Thirty years have passed and this case isn't solved. Hidden in a mass of lies, will the truth ever prevail?Buried for the third time and they won't let her rest.She's a martyr to the white man, a symbol of resistance. Looking for a scapegoat and pointing fingers back and forth to divert our attention (as they've always done) in hope of once again getting away with murdering an innocent and spilling blood across the land. Wounded Knee. Your earth is soiled with the blood of innocents and the powder from our guns. The sands of time are on an endless loop, the repeated lies believed as truths. Three decades passed, she's now back home, three decades passed, her killers never found. Justice won't ever be served, they'll never get what they deserved. It's easier to get away when the ones out looking are your friends "March, 1976...Sioux elders say the winds always howl when the body of a murder victim is moved. During the traditional wake and funeral given Anna Mae Pictou Aquash the week-end of March 12, 1976, a storm peaked, sending 30-mile-per-hour winds blasting across the desolate fields and shaking the rickety Jumping Bull Hall where the wake was being held." (see links page for more info on Anna Mae's story).
Track Name: Proletarian Song
There's a new war overseas, it's no different from the last. Send in jet planes and marines, we're still not learning from the past. In the army national guard you can be a killer, become the terrorist Open your eyes and see that we're just toys hanging from the strings of a government, but they won't hold you up or watch your back on the front line while you're fighting for their wealth. They'll throw you into battle to protect the freedoms of the owners of the companies that made the enemies the slaves through factories and capitalistic practice. No more respect. No more respect for individuals. There's no respect for the people. Big Brother says jump and we scream "how high?", he tells us to fight, we don't question why. Big Brother says jump and we scream "how high?", he tells us to fight and we scream "I'll die!". We will not fight in the skies. We will not die on your shores. We will not believe these lies. Two plus two still equals four. Two plus two will always equal four.