Sunday, 11 April 2021

Four Songs (Lyrics) by Benjamin Adair Murphy

 



Teach the Christians

 

Who’s gonna teach the Christians the teachings of Jesus Christ

They think they got it figured out but they ain’t got it right

They turn away from all their neighbours and steal from the poor

They put up walls along their borders and locks on all their doors

That scene is really such a sorry sight

Who’s gonna teach the Christians the teachings of Jesus Christ

 

Who’s gonna teach the Christians the teachings of Jesus Christ

They think the world is simple, they see it all in black and white

And they’re quick to pass their judgments about who is free to love

But if they knew the scriptures they’d know it’s not for them to judge

And then they want to go and start a fight?

Who’s gonna teach the Christians the teachings of Jesus Christ

 

Who’s gonna teach the Christians the teachings of Jesus Christ

They’ve got the riches of world and keep them locked up tight

And they teach their children hatred, and they teach their children fear

And they leave this world polluted because they think salvation is near

But we’re all on the same road home tonight

So it’s time to teach the Christians the teachings of Jesus Christ

 

 

The World’s Most Profitable Prison

 

In the world’s most profitable prison

The men have lost their souls

But they've kept their arms and legs

They’ve kept their backs and bones

And they still have all their muscles

And they’re held together by skin

And they live the length of their lives

In the world’s most profitable prison

 

In the world’s most profitable prison

The men are guarded by guns

And they work from dusk till dark

As they move to beat of a slave drum

Their food is mixed with sawdust

And they’re always razor thin

And there’s never an empty prison cell

In the world’s most profitable prison

 

 

Chop it Down 


Well I dreamed I lost my home last night

And my family had to flee

We walked with few belongings

The days turned into weeks

We made it to the border

But they didn't let us through

They just locked us up and took my daughter

There was nothing I could do

And I could not understand

Why the guards hated us so

When you’re not chopping that shit down

You're just helping that shit grow

 

They kept us separated 

The weeks turned into months 

Sometimes I thought I heard my daughter

Sometimes I thought I heard a gun

Then one day I got sick

But there weren’t any beds

I shivered through a fever

In a room that smelled like death

And all the time all I wondered

Why they did not let us go

When you’re not chopping that shit down

You're just helping that shit grow

 

Well, apples look like apples

So now here's a little quiz

When a man quotes Mussolini

What do you really think that is?

And the Klan drives a pickup truck

Into a peaceful crowd

Then maybe the problem's coming

From the top and running down

And a child cries for her mother

But these eyes and ears stay closed

When we're not chopping that hate down

We're just helping that hate grow


When we're not chopping that hate down

We're just helping that hate grow



Same kind of Fascist

 

You know those kind of fascists

You used to see on film?

Those mean looking fascists

With their shiny black boots?

 

You know those kind of fascists

Who loved to march around?

Well those same kind of fascists

They are here with us right now.

 

You know those kind of fascists

You used to read about in school?

Those big mouthed fascists

We had to shoot in World War 2?

 

You know those kind of fascists

Who like to rile up a crowd?

Well those same kind of fascists

They are here with us right now.

 

Because the fascist loves his church

and the fascist loves his Jesus

The fascist he loves fries and shakes

and the fascist loves grilled cheeses

 

The fascist loves his country

and the fascist loves the mall

The fascist loves his parents

and the fascist loves football

 

And that fascist sun is rising on

our dirt and on our dust

And that fascist heart is beating

Inside our children

On the school bus

 

 

 

Benjamin Adair Murphy writes political blues and country songs. His last album 'Let’s Make a King' was named one of the best albums of 2020 by multiple publications.  His poetry has been published in Headline Poetry and Press, The Good Ear Review, Ophelia Street, and others. His plays have been performed in New York, Boston, and Chicago. He lives in Mexico City.

PRESS | Mysite 1 (benjaminadairmurphy.com)

 

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