MySpace
myspace music


ICONICIDE (Twenty One Years!!)



Last Updated: 12/12/2009

Send Message
Instant Message
Email to a Friend
Subscribe

Status: Single
City: NEW YORK
State: New York
Country: US
Signup Date: 12/20/2004
July 8, 2009 - Wednesday 

Current mood:  rebellious
Category: Life
Pat Storm was a resident of Tompkins Square Park who was there on the front lines during the Riots of August, 1988. These are his words, as performed at the now deceased Tompkins Square Park Bandshell.

*************************

“POETIC JUSTICE” by Pat Storm – ....Tompkins.. ..Square.. ..Park...., 1988

 

What I’m giving you now is a little bit of Poetic Justice. Because from what I see right now, it’s the only kind of justice we have, brothers…

 

We’re here also for the reason

Of what the fuck is going on!


Krieg Pan, Pig Man

How can you say that I’m not a better man

Would it be too much for your pride to stand

As you give your hoodlums the back of your hand

What makes you a better man

 

You laugh at me for all I’m worth

You must despise my day of birth

As you drive around in your pig man car

You really think that you’re a star

 

In your chair like a circus Dan

You take my things you cut my hair

You want me to stay in there

But big man pig man

Me you don’t scare

 

You play with your gun like a little boy

But when you’re alone you’re just a toy

You’re just a lowly paid lunatic

So krieg man pig man – SUCK MY DICK

 

WHY! WHY!

 

Cause it’s a sad sad story that the Run does tell

Of two faced tyrants that we know so well

With just a flash of their green neighborhoods fell

Well it’s a sad sad story that the Run does tell

 

August 6th – a hot summer night

There was a rally in the park – a constitutional right

We were screaming bout the damage that the trump whores have done

And if we were quiet, their war was won

 

“What a small piece of nothing,” the Estate mogul said

“And money is no object – I just want those squatters dead

“Sell them poison in the crack house, give them AIDS on the stroll

“Just get them out of my conscience,” said the Estate mogul

 

‘Twas bout midnight that eve when the mayhem began

We had the choice to give up and scatter or stand there like a man

But the men who stood were beaten to boys

By the blue skinned Nazis with their crippling toys

 

And there was no mercy for the women and young

For to the blue skinned Nazis it was an evening of fun

You see the innocent were beaten and left there to bleed

It’s just Real Estate Murder – just the land that they need

 

So the Trump whores grow fatter by feeding their greed

They’ll never know hunger, they’ll never know need

And we’ll just get pushed off and out of their way

But fear not my brothers – every dog has its day