A day in the life of the Marki-moo by ræyhn

Produced in FL Studio, 2016

Video here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4g6vRO37zo&feature=youtu.be

A Markiplier remix, using video and audio from his vlogs.

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A Day In The Life Of The Marki-Moo

We've Got Hostiles - War Horn (instrumental)

It's hard to eng age with society,
When it's so absorbed in individual realities,
Buzzwords with adversity,
Catch every fact and spit them out.

Juvenile dogma dressed as adult edutainment, 
Old men in suits presenting news as entertainment,
Dumbing down the issues, squeezing out what they need
To give to the uneducated who feel

They've been robbed
Of something, anything,
As long as they feel on top of it.
Whether it's law, or a human,
Ivory towers raising the ir prescriptions,
All the while insinuating the real problem is immigration.
It's trickle down thoughts and feelings.

Specialist subjects taking careful scrutiny.
Dumbed down to make the dumber feel like they have a degree.
Well, we're all experts now, and we need answers on stupid questions like
"Why are we sending so much money to China?"
Why?

American nationalism's eggs are hatching
And now the western world is cracking.
Right down the middle, where they want you ripped wide open
Spilling money from your intestines.

For basic healthcare or education,
Creating a crisis as a distraction,
All the while incentivising the corporations antagonising.
It's trickle down thoughts and feelings.

Do you not feel patronised?
When another adult looks you in the eye and tells you
straight up, incredulous,
What you should be thinking?
Are alarm bells ringing?

Say when!

We've Got Hostiles - Architects Of Reality

The aul woman down the street, in my mind a saint.
You probably know her in some way, awk you do, you'd know her face.
Well, something's come over her terribly as of late
Cause despite a victory, furiously claimed,
She's still fucking irate.

Gnashing her teeth, gesticulating wildly, 
If you dared to even question or ask her to explain why.
There's just no talking to her. 
She pointed to the boy on the TV.
A plant hand-picked by the BBC with whom she wholeheartedly agreed
When he said it needed to be gotten on with, taken back, or wrenched back from control,
But what it was, she didnt know.
Sure now you go down the town and it's a rotten hole, she said,
All them ones on the dole,
Or those who have the auadacity to ask her if she'd like a magazine,
"I saw her with four debit cards, she gets nothin from me" she'd scream.

Is this who we are?

That's nothing compared to her mate,
Who nodded along and said she'd be absolutely be fine with
Putting less food on the plate,
As long as the Somali family she read about online in something a friend sent to her, well, 
They on't get to make a claim
It's a damn shame, where this country's going, she said.
Let's take it back to a version where it was golden instead.

One she never lived in, but one she was told of by her aul one,
Where they stiffed it out tough as the Germans were bombing.
Thousands died, and food was rationed,
Yet the ones in Parliament were doing just fine.
They were asking us where's our British pride?
Chin up, shoulders back, we're all in this they'd say,
As they'd retreat to their state homes while her ma toiled away.
 
At least the pride part, that's all grandma remembers,
reading it on a wartime poster somewhere.
 
Suddenly Alfie across the road is
very keen on where fishermen can take their boats.
He picks up the paper and seethes about how the French hate us
Despite the fact that we once saved them, he says,	
Though he never even lifted a finger.

Now he reckons he's on the front lines.
After having never seen war in his whole life,
Made fat from the spoils of war,
He's looking for a fight because he's bored,
And the papers are filling his mind with insane shite.

I just want the aul ones back
I just want the aul ones back
I just want the aul ones back
I just want the aul ones back

 
I'm sorry I don't have flowery language,
Nor space for verifiable figures,
And as ironic as it seems,
I'm just going off on how I feel.
But I just want the aul ones back.
Down the street, in the shop, at the table,
And I know you do too,
Cause they've been sold on a fable,
Those same ones that raised you.

We've Got Hostiles - Dunkirk Spirit

Straight out of a zombie movie.
Insatiable, craving, desperate.
Though it's not flesh they want,
They'd take it if it gave them the hit.

A home-made, obedient army
Lab grown to syphon money.
Pass it down to potent carriers,
Local general practicioners.


Crush them, flush them, do what you have to do
To wipe out the disease, eradicate Purdue.

A trade.
No pain.
A slave.


Chemical dependence.
Friendly assurance.
No worries, you can take it for long term,
Take a savings card home with you.


Good days came in thirties if granted,
Then one day they just blanked.
And now I'm down on my knees in the bathroom
but I don't need a prescription anymore
I need my life! 

Good days come in thirties if granted,
A white suit determining my week.
Good days behind the counter,
Feed from the hand that beats me, My drinking water used for feet,
It never ends.

Crush them, flush them, do what you have to do
To wipe out the disease, eradicate Purdue.

A trade.
No pain.
A slave.

We've Got Hostiles - Kleptosomniac

"End of the world music", for a society not too different from our own...

Novus Tempus, is coming...

A Day In The Life Of The Marki-Moo

[ræyhn]

Recent comments

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thomas gaylard

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