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All Your Work to Naught Must Come

A new piece by which to do my part pissing off the Tea Party. I've wondered for some time what the American colonial rebels who participated in the original Boston Tea Party would think of the So-Called "Tea Party Patriots" running around Nowadays attempting to repeal Obamacare and Whatnot. Hence the vaguely 18th Centuryish tone to the lyrics. The tune and chorus was running Amok in my head for a couple of years before I began to come up with verses to go with it, thanks to Recent news stories about "patriots" trying to overthrow the Obama Administration, among Other debacles...

*****

You tell us who we should love and wed;
O hey-ho, any fancy-oh.
Plant angel spies all around my bed,
Or pray to make it so.
You aim our joys in life to steal,
Redefining what we feel;
For all your froth and thundering,
How do you know what's real?

So feed me not with your table's crumbs;
Keep your games with an "ought" their sum.
Save your breath and let me be;
All your work to naught must come.

You tell us how we should love and birth;
O hey-ho, any fancy-oh.
While you rape the hell out of Mother Earth,
Or pray to make it so.
You flap your gums all the night and day,
With nary a rational word to say;
Invoking the Constitution,
While waging war on everyone...

So feed me not with your table's crumbs;
Keep your games with an "ought" their sum.
Gnash your tongues and let me be;
All your work to naught must come.

You pull the nets from the sick and poor;
O hey-ho, any fancy-oh.
Then set the wolves after each one's door,
Or pray to make it so.
You dream of a day we'll work for beans,
With never a hint of protest scenes.
Keep dreaming as you will;
You'll see our will is stronger still...

So feed me not with your table's crumbs;
Keep your games with an "ought" their sum.
Stand aside and let me be;
All your work to naught must come.

You dare to claim you are such as we;
O hey-ho, any fancy-oh.
Who dumped the o'er-taxed English tea,
And prayed to make it so.
Your puppet-masters pull your threads;
Talk of "revolt's" gone to your heads.
Deceit that knows not shame,
They pour millions into their patriot games.

So feed me not with your table's crumbs;
Keep your games with an "ought" their sum.
Gulp your piss and let me be;
All your work to naught must come.

You think that Christ is in your employ;
O hey-ho, any fancy-oh.
Some kind of mascot or poster boy,
Or pray to make it so.
But Spirit's free as a bird in spring;
A single breath changes everything.
And love will drive away
Your hate and fear of a bright new day...

So feed me not with your table's crumbs;
Keep your games with an "ought" their sum.
Go your ways and let me be;
All your work to naught must come.
(Repeat chorus)

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