The Grinder Monkey No Longer Dances For Change

Mothers everywhere Listen The grinder box is growing louder In the voice of antiquity. Don’t you hear it over the gears of the midnight carousel. The monkey won’t be moving from window ceil To window ceil collecting change So, you better teach your babes to dance And dance well And forget their names Or perish by them. The role of the new grinder monkeys Is for those born into an already spent life. Didn’t you know things tend to unravel at the worst time? But when is there a good time? After all All the celebrations have ended. The holidays have been cancelled this year According to the 12 O’ clock news. The president claims we can’t afford them And he suggests flagellation As a replacement to a day off. After all we have to save for the war effort. What war effort? Sorry I mean The war swindle. This is what happens when the doors to Bellevue swing open The lunatics claim this a Christian nation. Even Christ would cringe from such serrated adoration. And this is why the birth you now endure Is a celebration itself Of turning Your sacrifice to the mad hour To a generation of martyrs.