Given all the crises we’re faced with in 2020 — America’s continued reinforcement of white supremacy, a president checking off more and more fascism boxes, Papa John’s presence on Tik Tok — sometimes I feel like an asshole when I get caught up on a personal worry or indulge in silliness. For example, I’ll share a Tok like this, but the tweets from other people above and below it will have to do with someone in my age bracket dying from COVID-19,* and a Black girl being jailed for not doing her homework.
But there’s a song about this.
It’s from one of my faves, Wolf Parade, and it’s called “King of Piss and Paper.”
Here are the lyrics to the first half:
How can we sing about ourselves?
How can we sing about love?
How can we not sing about love?
How can we not sing about ourselves?
When the king is made of paper
And the king is made of piss
The king is coming down the fucking wall
I am a stranger to religion’s fear
I have no claim to the tears of the queer
But I know it keeps the blind man’s white cane near
The blind man keeps the white cane near
The songwriter wrote it shortly after Trump’s election, so you can deduce who the “King” is 😉
Immediately after typing that sentence I remembered that Radiohead referred to Bush II in a similar way, with “Hail to the Thief” in 2003. Lyrics from “2 + 2 = 5“:
All hail to the thief
All hail to the thief
(But I’m not, but I’m not!)
(But I’m not, but I’m not!)
Don’t question my authority or put me in a box
(‘Cause I’m not, cause I’m not!)
Oh, go and tell the king
That the sky is falling in
(But it’s not, but it’s not, but it’s not!)
Maybe not, maybe not
Footnote:
* I think it’s barbarian that hospitals aren’t figuring out a way for a patient’s loved ones to say goodbye in person.
Words For Friends 