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Dec. 16, 2017 - Sargon of Akkad - Carl Benjamin
29:54
TWIS Live - DrRandomercam
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Time Text
There's no chance of this guitar freezing up.
19th century technology.
I don't know what century this is from, but it works.
I can't hear you, shut up.
How many STWs does it take to screw in a light bulb?
12 minutes.
3. 43.
Faggin nigga jew cunt.
We're going to get friendly anyway, so we're preparing it for a pound.
I like to shit, cause if I did not be full of men.
I know it's bad for public health, but at least I'm thinking of myself.
Don't crap, you can't stay in time.
I like to pee.
So it's an okay if I pee on a tree.
What we've been doing since the millions BC.
If the dog can do it, why can't we?
That's why I sing, I demand equal rights between men and canines.
I wanna defecate where I like and not get jail time.
Turn it to, I wanna drag my scabby ass across your carpet and laugh at it all day.
I wanna make lonely people pay to get me laid.
I like to wank.
I can't do it in the water tank.
I like to screw, but only if it's okay with you.
But not anymore, cause I'm not equal right between men and canines.
I wanna stick my nose in women's crotches and call it playtime.
Turn it to, I wanna rake your newborn baby in its face hole and spray snow in its brain.
I wanna feed on lonely people's pain and pick them slaves.
One more time, I'd not equal rise between men and canines.
I'm gonna fight this fucking fight right on the front line and kick every dog that I see in the ass.
They are not a superior class.
I refuse to just give them a pass.
I'm like the human version of Rosenpux.
Watch it.
They never set microphones up for the tall gentleman.
Alright.
Racism is funny!
Especially at Christmas.
You can't be Santa if you're Chinese.
The sight of your demon eyes makes Caucasian children cry.
You can't be Santa if you're Turkish.
A Turkish Saint Nicholas would just be ridiculous.
You can't beat Santa if you're a communist.
Sorry, McTough, we can't find one fat enough.
You can't be Santa if you're Jewish, cause young.
You can't be Santa if you're black.
Because he lives at the North Pole.
But there's very little sunlight.
Due to skin pigmentation can give black people deficiencies.
Get him in D's.
You can't be Santa if you're a pedo.
You can't find employment that brings you enjoyment these days.
Not letting pedos be our Santa's is like not letting gays use public toilets.
It's just not fair.
I think the mistake I made there was comparing children with public toilets.
Public toilets get cleaned every day.
Children are the filthiest things on the planet.
You're gonna stick your dick in one.
Have fun dying with nobrop, dickhead.
Here's a song about socialism.
When I'm dead, I won't care.
Because I'm dead.
So don't ask me what to do after I'm dead.
Because I'm dead.
Go talk to someone who ain't care.
Like the worms.
The little critters and the germs.
Go ask them if they'd like me burned.
And lots inside an airtight box where only the elites can get to me.
No, feed me to the poor.
Feed me to the poor.
They need me more.
Leave me stacked against your cactus with some cash between my ass cheeks and a beer.
In my cold dead pounds that'll make somebody's deal.
You see, a coffin's just a prison.
And I'm not exactly in mint condition.
So I now feed me to the poor.
Feed me to the poor.
I was already broke when I was born.
I'm all they can afford.
They might get some indigestion and several yeast infections.
But fuck them, they're no more.
That's what they're for.
Put me up into a casserole with some carrots and potatoes, but no onions.
Fucking hate onions.
Don't you dare put any onions near my corner when you feed me to the poor.
Feed me to the poor.
Tell them they can even fuck me when they're bored.
You can use my spinal cord as a strap-on at your leisure.
It's ribbed for her pleasure.
In fact, just kill me now, because that sounds better than spot me crying into spunk stains on my sweater.
My sex life will improve if I get better.
So feed me to the horse.
Feed me to the birds!
Sorry, Song.
You're going to have to sort something out when you get back.
Yeah, that last song was kind of a disembodied verse that doesn't have a chorus.
It's just the same sort of eight chords over and over again.
I don't know if any of you noticed it's slightly different variations.
It does have a chorus.
And it's also disembodied from the verse.
It goes, Your hair is green, and it's been green since you were 16.
You hang around in public places with imaginary rapists who you don't want to be seen, okay?
Your hair is green, like it's been cleaned another tree.
Old ladies hate your tits, but men love them to this, so you became a feminist.
Your hair is green, and it's not even Halloween.
But you dream of the dark ages as you're sharing kick the pages of a Marxist magazine.
That's the one everyone has.
You want the hits and stuff.
So I guess I'll stop playing original shit.
Play something you know.
Are you familiar with the village people?
Familiar with the pet shop boys?
What am I going to play?
It's like my brain.
It's empty.
It's not close enough.
What happened?
Whatever, of which we're all aware.
Whatever, we have seen your land.
Whatever, and yes, we understand.
Whatever, as far as I'm concerned, whatever, this oyster is your world.
Whatever, but take heed from me.
The West is not what it seems to be.
Progress, it's what we call it here.
Progress out in the blockosphere, progress.
We tolerate no hate.
Let's do it!
Surrender, listen and believe.
Whatever, the fuck that means.
I love you, triplicate that please.
I want you, I'm calling the police.
I'm sorry, now I feel mentally undressed.
Goodbye, then now I feel my throw abreast.
Progress is what we call it here.
Progress out in this button sphere.
Progress, we love everyone.
Progress, except the sexist racists come.
Progress will never take the kiss.
Progress, unless you're white male or sis.
Progress, and if we draw for hammered, progress, feel free to jump off our head here where the water's cheap.
At least you won't get discontent.
This land cannot be spoiled because there's black old oil.
I know that all my Eastern friends to live here, this all looks heaven-send.
But that's cause you haven't seen what this bullshit will fucking do to your kids.
Waiters, they'll never get a job.
Warners, just join the PC bob.
Assats, professional victims.
Bricks, hold on like king penguins.
But you've made it.
Progress, Now you have to go.
Progress, You lost this one, bro, progress, You don't stand a chance.
Progress, You'd be better off in France.
Progress, When it raise your face, progress And replace it with a safe space.
Progress will cleanse your neighborhood.
And that's from the 70s and the 90s, so it averages out of the 80s.
From the actual 80s.
Burn it down.
Every time a poster says a thing I don't like or has a shot at someone harder than me.
Every time I stand out an inflammatory tweet And the responses give me PTSD.
Every time a publisher circulates words that I've decided out of sexual slurs, Every time I go to the police and report their horses rent me and they say that's absurd.
Burn it down size wise.
Every time a baby boy is born, Slice it off.
Why not?
Cause no one likes to preface in their porn.
Every time a bathroom is conveniently white instead of yellow, black or brown.
Every time a school has less than 20% of it additionally predicted medicinal compound.
Every time my headmates all turn out to be racist and must face.
Ain't even safe in my home.
Every time a teacher disagrees with my thesis That cat calling caused a falling road, Burn it down.
Stop me.
If you've heard this all before, I remarked for my eye, Stop me if you can't take anymore.
It's a new utopia Where you can't believe in heaven.
Just a cornicopia of clinical oppression by the cloning colonial empire, With a bone in its nose that splits it.
Human sentiment is missing a spine, Systemically convinced it.
I'm a victimless card.
My head is in the sand, My ass is in the sky, The spite is in my eyes.
My skin is full of fossil lies, I'm getting sick and it shines.
Now I just can't even be honest There's nothing left to parse A totalitarian farce Randomized rots of vaginal discharge This is what you people call art It is looking sparse, but totalitarian
He puts out the chicanery But it's an opportunity to speak to you candidly, it's still within the melody.
So what's the deal of stealing all the 80s punk princesses and throwing acid punk in their face?
Well, save it for the women who have dropped out a stance instead and waste a gender war in its place.
Burn it down, nice.
Be the politician if you must.
But you'll never take the microphone from us.
You can lead us off the right.
You can call yourselves the leaders.
You can stone the whole exercise.
But you'll never be the Tevers.
Cause the songs always come from the slime.
Hit the gunners of lies.
The frankest sons of Tyrion, you don't need to see.
The electric journey needs to create a stream.
There's only so much you can tram inside a man.
Whose glory shifts a diamond so that cut off your hands.
We're getting spots in the eyes.
And then they're getting spots in the ears.
Wild kids and the gods Now I'm only fighting the dogs.
And then have no happy moms.
On totalitarian blogs TV mostly shows prolapsed body parts The radio just bleeds and farts.
The films are just as dark.
There's nothing but tits and retards.
Nothing but tits and retards.
That last line was Arbeit Macht frei, by the way.
It's a phrase that was popular in Germany.
It means work breaks freedom.
You're not allowed to say it in Germany anymore.
A lot of things you're not allowed to say in Germany.
Speaking of which, you all remember Brexit?
It's going well, isn't it?
Well, I will ask you to cast your mind back to June the 24th of last year, when it all felt so good.
I wrote a victory song to the tune of an Avisong.
Lopez Dupath, after dinner, foamball finally has been sung like the cancerous gun that we always knew it was.
Such a supine coastline leads around the grave by her misdexon.
Hold on, I'm stroking, what's my feeling?
Why did you ask Hush from crack off?
Now we're balancing the books and have to tell the Nigerian prince to back off.
We learned our lessons not to devil in the centers of population density unless you're explicitly in a call to human slavery.
You're fucking secular, to colour.
Pizzo missed you bastards.
How'd you like them twice?
And so spoke the skunk and the national income.
So take your group on cold war sharpening up your offshore holding company.
Have fun with your sped sheets.
We'll be takin' back the streets You just so dumb We apologized and gave them jobs and it caused a financial crisis.
When your continent resembles at the center, then it's time to cut the cord.
I would rather shoot my foot than chop my head off with a sword.
Because your shoe-horn unicorn turned out to be still born.
And it pierced your sleeve.
Why you make it breathe?
It still remains a mystery.
Because he's got his own Eurozone cop planet by Cologne.
With a thousand separate rules about terrorist abuse.
And all of them involve the Jews.
So I'll remain in the UK Inside a state in which democracy survives.
And you will too, and you will learn.
And you can choose to take it on the chin next time you lose.
You fucking Labrador, Trouper, Sophomoric Dinosaur, hiking up the price on everything.
Well, I'm on a shoestring.
So kiss me on the sovereign ring.
You've got your suit of trooper in your quasi-swazi land.
Why'd you need us to what you actually do?
And why the fuck do we need Eurozone on a rope, buddy scanners, roposcopes?
Soaked in quarantine, feeding the machine that produces magic beans.
Lucifer's you superb wouldn't touch your clear cross.
Neither were these tools.
So make up some excuse to blame the whole shebang on Jupiter's Zookeeper.
Gather me back on IO's great author.
All this can be yours.
I see you on your hopeless shores Will you go to leave?
Despite you anti-democratic thieves You're bitched and then you moaned.
And you tried to get disowned.
The irony's not lost on me.
We voted leave.
And you've no one left to blame but the bereaved.
We got Boris off his rock.
And Farage has just fucked off.
And it's almost Christmas Eve.
We voted no on all the stupid shit you had to show All of course except that X does equal X and no means Christmas It's fucking Christmas and shit
There's a song called Stop the Caliphate.
Hey there government got big brotherness God saviour nourishment can we talk?
I'm not religious or traditionalist, but since this is a Christmas song Let's bring Jesus and sing it like a Minuteman, can you stop the Caliphate?
Europe's up in flames almost every day, there's mass murder as well as rape So when you're finished with all this shivery, can you stop the Caliphate?
Mary Joseph, baby Jew, you know I've never been fond of you But you should know your name's in danger, so get the fuck out of your manger Ramadamadam, Ramadam It's as if we had our own brain sickness Love the loveless
Instead of all of this tinsel prettiness How's about this Christmas we have pork fry that bacon green smear on your mantelpiece Let your heart decide to see your firstborn Make a day of it, don't just pray of it What's religion for, if not holy more?
Let's go and character pitcher for 30 days here with a great mind Line up your swords, grab your pitchforks, let's build us a stone for Parliament in Shalomo Harlem Planes go flying by one listless Tuesday morning
So soon Leicester Bradford Highland London third and second zones Wish I could be home right now In Luton and Pratford and treat me as slough This means nothing to me When there's nothing to siege
Oh Vienna I was gonna get there was a siege There was a siege at Vienna It's a research-based joke Alright one more I've got a I've got a new song for you I do a Christmas song every year.
I don't really like Christian hymns, for the most part they're kind of bland and inspiring but every now and again, they write a banging tune.
I'm fat to the soy boys and I'm fat to the fox I'm fat to the traps, whether they are gay or not I'm fat to the homies and I'm fat to the fash I'm fat to Mohammed and his rainbow dash Fat, fat, for Kyrgyzstan is free I am the lord of the darkest speeds And we'll build the wall in sunny Kofi V And we'll build the wall with the darkest speeds
I'm fat to attack and I fat to protect I fat every time someone posts another shrek I fat through the steps and the rare campaigns I fat all night till the frogs turn gay I am the lord of the dankest field and we'll build the wall in sunny coffee v and we'll build the wall with the dankest means
i found a girlfriend she was openly attached i found a boyfriend he was openly distracted i found a dog and i taught him to salute now he's gone to gaze at a gastro jute i am the lord of the dankest fiends and will build the wall in sunny coffee v and we'll build the wall with the dankest means
i tried to use the tags like the flags en masse i tried to block the ads they demonetize my ass i tried to chat stride and the virgin walk am i being detained or just gangsta fad fat for gentleman is free i am the lord of the dankest fiends and we'll build the wall in sunny coffee bee and we'll build the wall with the dankest field He will not divide us and we won't be replaced.
It's okay to be white and have digital black face.
You can fuck a child or a beachland whale.
You can fuck anything but a fucking white male.
Fad fan for Gekistan is free.
I am the lord of the dankest means and will build the wall in sunny Coffee V and we'll build the wall with the dankest means Fad fat for Gentleman is free.
I am the lord of the dankest means and we'll build the wall in sunny Coffee Fade and we'll kill the Nornies in shadow, where
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