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lyrics

Drunk again, another springtime.
Another recounting of our people’s flight from hell.
House to house, I make a beeline.
And I listen to the stories that you tell.


And you say “That which befell us, may it never be again,
That is to us, but everybody else can fuck themselves.”
It used to make me feel so sad, to hear you talk that way,
But now I’m pretty sure it’s just as well.


Cause I’m so far past the point,
When I found this shit incredible.
My name is Eliyahu,
And I know you’re all still terrible.


And every now and then I come back,
On the off chance that you all have change your ways.
I dress up like the least among you,
And I ask your help and listen what you say.


And I’ve been a slave, I’ve been an outlaw on the run,
I’ve been strung out, I’ve been dying of the plague.
I’ve thrown myself at easily a thousand pairs of feet,
And every time you’ve turned me straight away.


You know I get so fucking sick of it,
But I know that I’m still stuck.
My name is Eliyahu,
And I know you all still suck.


And so every year I toast our freedom with a couple million cups of red wine.
They say that every drunk has got his demons.
But nobody’s got ‘em quite like mine.


How nice to eke out some degree of comfort.
To affix a nice neat number to your worth.
How nice to be so proud of flag and country.
Just like every other schmuck that walks the Earth.


But when I raise my glass, it’s not to join the revelry,
Because I’ve been there, and I know all too well where it goes.
So set aside a separate cup, and pour one out for me,
To use the pain of knowing all I know.


I’m so far past the point,
When I found this shit incredible.
My name is Eliyahu,
And I know you’re all still terrible.

credits

from Junkyard Golem, released November 18, 2016

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Out of System Transfer New York

NYC's gonzo anti-folk punk rock radical leftist hootenanny!

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