1. |
White Silence
03:27
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White Silence
Payment plans for death machines, poison in the wine
No lives matter. That’s the way the wicked world’s designed
We are all made of stone
Statues carved with broken bones
Weaned on genocide and violence
This is the sound of white silence
We grew up by an old slave port, something we were never taught
Human lives bought and sold. Their stories never told
God saved our gracious queen
A flag proudly dowsed in gasoline
“Don’t desecrate the slavers’ graves
They’re what made this country great”
Break your silence
White magic. White lies
We’re following white Christ
White violence. White pride
White 1945
White history. Blackpool.
They don’t teach this in school
The name of this demon: white patriarchal rule
This is white silence
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2. |
Die For the Weekend
03:07
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Die For the Weekend
Where orphans wail and widows weep
I work my needle in the dark
19 hours a day, 6 days a week
And still my children starve
Jesus is my only friend
I live to work and I’d die for the weekend
No space to breathe no light to read
Stitching, stitching in the dirt
The rich get rich, the poor stay poor
Singing the Song of the Shirt
Oh, for half a day to call my own
Free from toil free from church
Oh, to be more than weary flesh and bone
For life to mean more than just work
The Empress atop the hill, with blood she fuels Satanic mills.
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3. |
Sugar Boy
04:47
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Sugar Boy
Just like the age-old fable of the scorpion and the frog
The spider and the bird are soaring over Camelot
There’s venom coursing through my veins
Sugar Boy, can you explain?
Sugar Boy, is it true?
That it’s just what you do?
You promised me that we could fly
Now we’re both gonna die
And this is your true nature
Just another fucking traitor
Somewhere on the astral plane
The wind had changed
I thought we were the same
But you’ll never fly again
Should have seen this coming
Seen it from the start
Should have known you truly have no...
Grown older like the lion
We’re hungry for your blood
The truth is: you were Great
but you were never Good
These scratches deep within my bones
Sugar Boy, they’re in your soul
Sugar Boy, I think it’s true
This is what you do
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4. |
Apolitical
02:15
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Apolitical
No incentives, motivation
Joie de vivre or inspiration
I earned more on the fucking dole
Than I do while I toil in this miserable hole
Safe in the knowledge that my weekly wage is
Subsidising thieves and liars
I’m a happy asset to society
A smiling part of a community
With no incentives
Apolitical, we don’t watch the news
We just wear the clothes, we just like the boots
We’re apolitical, we don’t want to think
We just want a laugh, we just want a drink
We’re apolitical, we don’t see race
We don’t see injustice when it’s in our fucking faces
Apolitical we sit on the fence
When music is reaction to political events
“All men are equal,” you observe
As you are standing on the shoulders of servants
Apolitical, we’re not prejudiced
We treat everyone the same in spite of our advantages
Apolitical, ignorance is bliss
It’s easy to pretend we don’t have privilege
Apolitical, we don’t see race
We don’t see injustice when it’s in our fucking faces
Apolitical, we don’t make a fuss
We don’t want to change the world, it was made for us
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5. |
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Born in Nineteen Eighty-Four
You were born in 1984
But you win the first world war
And you’ll take the credit for the 1966 cup final score
You’ll take a pleasant land and paint it black
You’re not the cure you are the cracks in the Union Jack
You dance a morbid frisk called the knee-jerk twist
You love anything as long as its English
Maybe one day you’ll learn the language
Hare Krishnas dressed in black
Knee-deep in mud and they won’t let us back
They’ve built a wall and we’re outside
On the day Great Britain died
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6. |
Jamaica Street
03:46
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Wilson. Glassford. Oswald. Dunlop. Dennistoun. Plantation. Buchanan. Ingram. Gordon. Virginia. Kingston. Overnewton. Spiers Warf. Tobago. Enderslie. Robertson. Merchant City. Chochrane
Jamaica Street
Walking the streets of a familiar place
Imagine that there’s no escape
Dying from work the systems create
Fuelling the lie that their country’s great
I walked Jamaica Street with naïve adolescent feet
Unaware how it stole its name, now all I see is Scotland’s shame
Crimes immortalised by signs
Evoke the transatlantic cries
Of freeborn folk abused as slaves
And these paving stones all look like graves
I walk Jamaica Street where ghosts of old no longer sleep
I’m aware how it stole its name
Break your silence
Break these chains
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7. |
Burial Ground
02:32
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Burial Ground
There are whispers in the darkness
There are mysteries in the woods
So raise a glass of American burbon
And toast The White Man’s Burden
Ancient earth
Bloodied hands
Dirty Lies
Hallowed Lands
This gold is cursed, the boggarts howl
This place is built on burial ground
Sins are hidden deep, deep down
This place is built on burial ground
There are voices in the white noise
Secrets in the static hiss
So raise a glass of American burbon
And toast The White Man’s Burden
In the shadows of the Black Hills
There stand six piles of stones
You disturbed eternal slumber
And called this place your own
Hear the cries out in the distance
See the fields drowned in blood
So raise a glass of purest poison
And know the dead are risen
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8. |
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The Battle of Bamber Bridge
Midsummer 1943
Along came the men from the Land of the Free
Called for segregation
Judgement of skin
Betty said “you’re barred from Ye Olde Hob Inn”
Locals and GIs stood together side by side
Klansmen they all cried, they’d left their crosses far behind
Betty said “you’ll never win
You’re barred from Ye Olde Hob Inn”
Half a mild, a lager top, a box of dominoes
‘Cause black and white come every night to drink away their woes
And if you think your senators can tell us what to do
We’ll send you crying for your mams for the many and the few
US troops in Lancashire
Your Jim Crow laws aren’t welcome here
Where the first one at the bar is the first to get a beer
Betty said, “you’re out on your ear”
MPs paint a vulgar scene out there on the village green
Klansmen, they attacked. Lancs men and Black troops fought back
Betty sang, “you’ll never win,
You’re barred from Ye Olde Hob Inn”
But Betty wasn’t singing when young Billy fell
And watched as Bamber Bridge turned into coldest hell
She knows his mother’s crying for her dying son
And if his blood was the price, their war was never won
They called it friendly fire, she called it bigotry
So Betty has decided: Black Troops Only, Please
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9. |
Cotton Famine Road
04:20
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Cotton Famine Road
Confederate flags in every window
Some of them are hanging still
There’s no work and there’s no food
There is no cotton for the mill
Why should we starve
For the sake of a foreign war?
Lincoln freed the US slaves
No justice for the English poor
Father died in the corner
With nothing to lie on but cold stone flags
The clothes he owned weighed just two pounds
We sold them for five pence as rags
In exchange for your charity
Could you let me sweep the streets?
It was never said in all my life
I didn’t earn the food I eat
God knows we’ve suffered
But they have suffered more
So we said no, we won’t go
Take these stones. Build a road
Unlearn what you know stone by stone
Cotton Famine Road
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10. |
Alright Jack
03:30
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Alright Jack
I can’t tell you that you’re wrong
And I don’t want to sing this song
But the things that you believe
Have been killing us all along
Birdsong falls to silence now
When I start to think of how
The lies you’re fed, they fill your head
Worry forms upon your brow
So, turn off the radio
Play the record you used to know
Sing a song with me of a time long ago
All the evils of the world
I won’t let them bring you low
’Cause you’d never hurt a babby
And you’d always share your bread
Give the shirt straight from your back
And you’d offer up your bed
But the telly is confusing
And the news is of hate
The paper fans the flames
And you think that it’s too late
Kiddies drowning in the channel
People freezing on the streets
The rich get rich, the poor stay poor
’til there’s nothing left to eat
Someone said that they deserve it
Charity begins at home
“I’m alright, Jack,” and you believe it
“I’m alright, Jack on my own.”
Jack wasn’t nimble
Jack wasn’t quick
Jack had to pawn his candlestick.
Jack, I did warn you
Get in your corner
Claiming you are sick
Jack was declared fit to work
Not a candle to light him to bed
Now Jack is dead
So, turn off the radio
Play the record you used to know
Sing a song with me of a time long ago
All the evils of the world
I won’t let them bring you low
I won’t let them bring you low.
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DISCHORD UK
“Ablaze with passion & melody, injected with a sing-a-long charm & more than capable of blowing you away with explosive
riffage. The whole cacophony is emphasised by a bold and blazing frontman.”
- Fungalpunk
"Dischord are more punk than ever, thrashing anarchist anthems from the rooftops." - Dead Press
"The Wakes is an unrelenting juggernaut that leaves you feeling flame-licked."
- Punktastic
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