SLRPNK Music

LYRICS

Cops shot him in the back, cops shot him in the head

Cops choked out a man and beat him half to death

You see it all the time on the news

Or on the block that you live as you cruise

They killed Alex Nieto before he went to work

Some gentrifying yuppie called the pigs, what a jerk

Cos they saw a young brother with a tazer at his side

He worked security, still shot him 59 times

Sandra Bland roughed up and arrested

For speaking her mind to a cop she detested

In the morning they find her strung up on a rope

Called it suicide, yeah right, nope!

Eric Garner got choked out for selling cigarettes

Told the cop "I can't breathe" still ended up dead

Freddie Gray got his neck snapped in the back of a van

Because he ran, Baltimore, god damn

[Chorus]

Indite, convict, send those killer cops to jail

The whole damn system is guilty as hell

Fong Lee killed by Minneapolis PD

Met his mom and pops, cried with his family

Police claims the kid had a gun, video shows empty hands as he runs

Bay Area won't forget Oscar Grant

New Years night, the whole train heard a bang

Shot him in the back, while cuffed face down

This is what happens when you're black in the town

A long list of lives that left this earth

By the hands who swore to protect and serve

They got the nerve to take our tax

Yet they shoot us down when we fight back

Protest in peace, they release the dogs

Try to use their courts when they break the law

No faith in the system that protects the rich

And condemns the poor and takes their shit

[Chorus]

Corrupt coppers, all over the world

From Mexico to Mindanao, who do you serve?

Corporations getting down, extracting the earth

Tearing down shanty towns, down in the dirt

Increase police before they gentrify hoods

And the beast to displace people that stood

It's a work in progress I guess

You protest this mess they attack our flesh

Chained up, toed up, profiled, humiliated

Walking down the street, while whiteboys get inebriated

Hate the feeling of being innocent

Cos it means you become a victim

They say some cops ain't that bad

I say it's the system so don't get mad

Bodyguards of the state and market too

Supersedes the needs of me and you

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So cheerful, yet so bleak.

Solarpunk is a movement that comes with a genre but does it have a soundtrack too? Is there such a thing as solarpunk music?

We asked our social media followers what their solarpunk tracks were. Chillwave, ambient, trance and lofi electronica were some of the most popular responses. They are also the top hits you get when you search for solarpunk on YouTube.

LYRICS

Soon he’ll be a prisoner like his comrades have become

But he’s proud when he tells their story cuz he’s proud of what they’ve done

He’s an anti-fascists from the ranks of the working-class

And when the Nazis come to town he doesn’t let em pass

He’s says “my grandfather fought fascists cuz it’s what he had to do

You can threaten me with prison time but I’ll fight fascists too

Maybe my body be a barricade that won’t let fascist through

In the name of my grandfather, and for me and you, And for the future we’ll fight fascists too

He says “two years is injustice, but it’s twice as good as four,

A much higher price was paid by those who suffered through the war

And I’ll be damned if my action lets that power rise again

We can bury the hatchet once we bury fascism

Cuz my grandfather fought fascists cuz it’s what he had to do

You can threaten me with prison time but I’ll fight fascists too

Maybe my body be a barricade that won’t let fascist through

In the name of my grandfather, and for me and you,

And for the future we’ll fight fascists too

It takes more than fists to stop oppression for hate’s born in the heart

But alongside the slow shifts, the fist must play its part

For the violent deeds of a fascist few can silence everyone

We can bury the hatchet once we bury fascism

Cuz my grandfather fought fascists cuz it’s what he had to do

You can threaten me with prison time but I’ll fight fascists too

Maybe my body be a barricade that won’t let fascist through

In the name of my grandfather, and for me and you,

And for the future we’ll fight fascists too

LYRICS

Skinheads ain't 'bout shit (x2)

Fuck supremacists (x2)

Crackers tryna get some clout quick

Run they mouth slick

Pull up to yo hood? I doubt it

Get surrounded

White genocide a damn lie

Ain't finna be another Auschwitz

100-round drum on my damn side

Go tell that on the mountain

Think ‘bout your blood, think ‘bout your kids

When it get lit, will you be equipped?

Who finna die if it's us vs. them?

Get you a stick, gon’ let it hit

Might be the man in your delegates

Might damn well be the president

Might be ya next door neighbors

Hashtag that ass for the paper

If your mans and them get upset

Wanna object? That's suspect

When it comes down to the get down

Will they stand up for the unrest?

Look, I give no fuck what you look like, let's link up

Cuz this still our nation, they ain't finna take it

We got no patience for Aryan hatred

If God what they playin’, send 'em to Satan

It ain't no tellin’ where they finna take it

We need the peace, but we don't need a racist

If you think I'm finna die on my knees

I gotta squeeze, ain't no debatin’

Fuck the alt right

Motherfuck the alt right

Fuck 45

Motherfuck 45 (x2)

Hit them nazi punks with the pump, leave they ass slumped (x4)

17 years ago, I was amazed by the incredibly loud pulsing chorus of cicadas in my backyard. I improvised this tune that I had to name "The Cicada Reel". I recorded the tune a year later on "Journey to the Heartland" (Maggie’s Music, 2005). And the cicadas are back in full force. Shortly after I recorded this video, they hit 93 dB’s. So here it is again: The Cicada Reel, played on a Dusty Strings D670 with dampers.

Some things never change.

Canonical YouTube link

Invidious Link - https://youchu.be/watch?v=NR3xVQy8ccM

LYRICS:

Are there no fighters left here anymore?

Are we the generation we've been waiting for?

Or are we patiently burning

Waiting to be saved?

Our heroes, our icons have mellowed with age

Following rules that they once disobeyed

They're now being led when they used to lead the way

Do you still believe in all the things that you stood by before?

Are you out there on the front lines

Or at home keeping score?

And do you care to be the layer of the bricks that seal your fate?

Or would you rather be the architect of what we might create?

They laid out the blueprints, they poured down a base

Concrete solutions to slow our decay

And when they are gone

Who the fuck's gonna take their place?

Yeah, will it be the cynics, the critics galore?

The cliché apathetic passed out on the floor

The trusting complicit who collectively ignore

Do you still believe in all the things that you stood by before?

Are you out there on the front lines

Or at home keeping score?

And do you care to be the layer of the bricks that seal your fate?

Or would you rather be the architect of what we might create?

Don't you remember when you were young

And you wanted to set the world on fire?

Somewhere deep down, I know you do

And don't you remember when we were young

And we wanted to set the world on fire?

'Cause I still am, and I still do

Make no mistake

We are not afraid

To bear the burden of repeating

What they're thinking anyway

Let's raise the stakes

On the bet we made

Let's decide to be the architects

The masters of our fate

Yeah, we still believe in all the things that we stood by before

And after everything we've seen here maybe even more

And I know we're not the only ones and we were not the first

Unapologetically we'll stand behind each word

One English translation of "A bas l'État policier" is "Down with the Police State"

Canonical YouTube link

LYRICS:

When the party starts on Monday

Christmas starts in June

When no one minds I've just arrived and I'll be leaving soon

If I return with eyes half-opened

Don't ask me where I was

I do my father's drugs

When every revolution

Is sponsored by the state

There's no bravery in being asked and turning down the case

If you see me with a rifle

Don't ask me what it's for

I fight my father's war

A when hunger strikes are fashion

And freedom is routine

All in all the streets in Cleveland are named for Martin Luther King

You will see me at the protest

But you'll notice that I drag

I burn my father's flag

So when the party starts on Monday

And Christmas starts in June

A when no one minds I've just arrived and I'll be leaving soon

If I return with eyes half opened

Don't ask me where I was

I do my father's drugs

I do my father's drugs

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