UNCLE MORRIS from CHOOCHTOWN by HAMELL ON TRIAL

When it gets a little scary with the winds all breathing hard with the papers and the subway don't you want to fence your yard? Check the fridge and scan the cable thanks the radio's the same, maybe you should call up Charlie, catch a buzz and watch the game. Where's the yearbook '86, check the lineup in gym class, where's that little wussy Tabin, Jesus how you kicked his ass, caught outside the mall at sundown, never liked his clothes or walk, 16 stitches broken shoulder, man you should have heard him squawk.
Arm yourself says Uncle Morris, meet me in the fields at night, bring along the Constitution, teach the children how to fight.
How's about the pussy lately, getting cocky for control, if you do not have a gold card you can pull your own damn pole. At the office don't be joking now the cunt don't have to smile, you start grabbin' and she'll sue you set your ass in jail awhile. You can't date without a rubber, you can't date without a line, call 900 call 'em bitches, whores and dykes and then feel fine. Every faggot homo downtown, every nigger, spic and yid, every jerk off who ignores you, don't you want to flip your lid?
Scan the channels they're invading, every TV show has more, arm yourself says Uncle Morris then we'll show them whats in store. Can't they build a mall bi-coastal? Enter Jersey leave LA? Mick-D's in Pennsylvania,Baton Rouge and Monterrey? Didn't it once all ring familiar? Weren't the bells all bright and clear? Why's the sound all getting muffled, like there's cotton i my ears? Arm yourself says Uncle Morris, look out 'fore it is too late, what the hells the country built on teach the children how to hate.

• Rock
• anti-folk
• indie folk
• indie rock
• spoken word
• Austin