I am a Union Man
You might've seen me on the local news,
I'm here for the semi-skilled
I am an immigrant, I came South, about 30 years ago
To raise my family, and practice my religion
Away from the bigotry of my home town.
And maybe one day, I'll go home...

I'm not a Union Man
The Union was co-opted and sold off piece by piece
In a hostile takeover.
I'm a working-class boy,
I been working all my life
But I'm too polite to complain.
And I'm already home.

I'm not a Union man, I pay enough dues already
It's hard to take it steady with everyone against, We
Lived through emasculation, some emancipation
Many occupations and escalation
Since that first excursion, North to South
Hard Times since Thatcher stole the milk out of my mouth.
I'm a piss-taker, like my father before me
Gifted and lazy, like my brothers above me.
Skipped out of church early, but we had the decency
To feel really really guilty....
Amazing grace, we got no hiding place
How sweet the sound of the phattest bass.
I tried to be brave but I was too well-behaved
We all felt the same shame
Of playing the game, bowing to authority
Or force, or superior weaponry
I'm skint, like my parents before me
Thats why cash rhymes just bore me
I'm a soul rebel just as God made me
Until I sell dreams to buy necessities,
With responsibilities, in a world of endless possibilities
My parents taught me rebellious spirit
But, of course, I rebelled against it, I'm Celtic:
I only communicate in song
Trying to prosper, play hard and live long
If you want to live on, write a folk song
About failed rebellion and glorious death.
Against the famine and the crown
We rebelled, and got shot down
Even now, years on, we still rage
Against exploitation, long hours and low wage
We might've lost the focus, but the pain remains,
The more things change,
The more they stay the same.

The more things change, the more they stay the same
Now we're home...
We're going nowhere
Now we're home.