A Thousand Cuts

So,
You wanna be a hero,
Facing the wrath of the dreaded -------.
You wanna stand in line,
For your grandfathers crimes,
And show what you're made out of.

But watch out!
Here come the signs of danger,
Here comes the moment of truth.
Here comes the chance to show your valor and
Your chance to set right what you could.

But where's your valor when it really matters,
Has it gone for a walk in the woods?
Was it nothing more than empty prattle and
Do you only talk when the going's good?

Fair weather heroes,
How's the weather today?
Fair weather heroes.
D'you feel brave today?
Fair weather heroes.
Is it too cold today?
Fair weather heroes.
How many ----- today?
Fair weather heroes.

Well,
You coulda been a hero,
And washed the stains
From your bloodstained clothes.
You coulda held the line
And just said Nein!
And made sure you got it right this time.

But No!
What d'you decide to do instead,
When evil raises its head?
When it tells you to discriminate
And makes you instruments of hate.

Do you smell the evil in the air 
And say we won't participate?
Or do you decide to tuck in your tails
Coz it's safer to give in instead?

Fair weather heroes,
How's the weather today?
Fair weather heroes.
D'you feel brave today?
Fair weather heroes.
Is it too cold today?
Fair weather heroes.
How many ----- today?
Fair weather heroes.

Guitar Solo ---

Fair weather heroes,
How's the weather today?
Fair weather heroes.
D'you feel brave today?
Fair weather heroes.
Is it too cold today?
Fair weather heroes.
How many ----- today?
Fair weather heroes.

Fair weather heroes,
Would you save Anne Frank today?
Fair weather heroes.
Are you going to look away?
Fair weather heroes.
What does the mirror say?
Fair weather heroes.
Is it any different today?
Fair weather heroes.


Fairweather Heroes

Bit By Bit (Original, Live 2019 December)

Remember we walked hand in hand on
Ephemeral banks of time building
Castles in the sand while
Moonlit beams danced.

Remember the songs we used to sing of
Ethereal voids and screens built on the 
Fabric of the eternal dream.

Remember the vision of galaxies
Reflected and reflecting
In an endless network of pearls.

On every branch there hung 
A drop with a constellations 
That trembled each time the breeze turned.

As we stretched our hands,
Just for a moment 
The stars seemed within reach.

As we played on the sands,
Just for a moment
The secret was revealed.

Now the moment is gone
And we live on.
Now nothing has changed,
We're back once again.
And all we have are 
Resounding echoes of silent screams.

Now the moment is gone
And we live on.
Now nothing has changed,
We're back once again.
And all we have are 
Tattered remains of broken dreams.

Silent Screams (Original)

Where in the name of God do you find corpses on cots?
They've slashed open gullets, bodies filled with bullets,
For God.

Last week ki Qurbani, last week ki shaitani.
Last week ki Qurbani, last week ki shaitani.
(the martyrs of last week, the slaughters of last week.)

Where is the man of God who taught us all of this?
Was he there when they cried, was he there when they died?
Where's God?

Last week ki Qurbani, last week ki shaitani.
Last week ki Qurbani, last week ki shaitani.
(the martyrs of last week, the slaughters of last week.)

Jaha bhi nazar pade khoon ki nadi bahe,
Jaha bhi nazar pade khoon ki nadi bahe.
(wherever the eye goes it sees rivers of blood.)

Aaaa...

Many a day to come will be a feast for the scavenging beasts,
There'll be no peace for the souls of the dead.

Last week ki Qurbani, last week ki shaitani.
Last week ki Shehzadi, tadap rahi hai anjaani.
(the martyrs of last week, the slaughters of last week,
the princess of last week is suffering all alone.)

She's just looking for a place to cry,
She needed to live so her daddy died.

Aaaa...

God had told him in a secret sign,
She's the one to carry on the line.
Every drop of your wasted blood,
Will raze a village of theirs to dust.
She'll give birth to a son who'll be a man,
He'll bring back the honor of your clan.

Aaaa...

Last Week Ki Qurbani (Original)

I was inspired to write this song after reading a really funny blog post by Bhavesh Kansara (http://bit.ly/2GIVLDF).

In a large meeting room,
She who shall not be named,
Was sitting on a high-back chair,
With a frown on her face, listening.

A senior member was explaining his plan,
Placing red pin tacks on drawing room maps.
He spoke of secret, silent attacks
And of daggers in the back.

In the dead of the night we shall let loose
On the sheep and the goats bloodthirsty wolves
With slavering lips and growling throats.

If the sheep try at all to save their skin,
We have friends in the press, we'll rope them in.
We'll show to the world what bigots they are
We'll devise the fable of Lynchistan.

From the heights of her throne,
She who shall not be named,
With a smile on her face and arms upraised
Showered her grace.

"The plan you've sketched is surely the best.
Nothing more remains to be said.
You have my blessings so just go ahead and 
Do it!
But not in my name
Not in my name
Not in my name
Not in my name."

In the large meeting room, the final plans are laid.
The hitmen are called and prepared for the last detail.
Such as whom to slaughter and how to maim,
Where to stoke the fires of mutual hatred.
Trained to kill and to play victim,
Seasoned hands at this kind of game.

Our dogs on the leash, tied to 10 JP,
Will wag their tails, for the crumbs we throw at their feet.
Organized protests, candlelight marches, selective outrage, planned spontaneity,
Balancing monkeys, manufacturing news,
Not for nothing they're called presstitutes.

The useful tools like Trojan horses hide.
Ideological soldiers puffed with intellectual pride.
Armed with the lipstick of technicalities
They'll turn the wolves into Red Riding Hood.
This time we'll hear like Award Wapsi the chorus:
Not in my name
Not in my name
Not in my name
Not in my name.

Bhaskar Kamble

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