Hinir hrokafullu ormar

Í gær fór ég á alveg frábæra tónleika. Það voru hinir hrokafullu ormar sem léku (Arrogant Worms) en þeir eru kanadísk gríngrúbba sem ég er ákaflega hrifin af. Ég hafði séð þá tvisvar sinnum áður á sviði og í bæði skiptin skemmti ég mér konunglega. Lögin þeirra eru skemmtileg og grípandi og textarnir alveg magnaðir, þótt einn og einn sé fyrir neðan beltisstað. Uppáhaldslagið mitt er alltaf áróðurinn gegn grænmetisáti , Carrot Juice Is Murder sem hér má sjá og heyra að neðan.

 

Carrot Juice Is Murder

Listen up brothers and sisters. Come hear my desperate tale.
I speak of our friends of nature trapped in the dirt like a jail.
Vegetables live in oppression served on our tables each night.
This killing of veggies is madness. I say we take up the fight.
Salads are only for murderers. Coleslaw's a fascist regime.
Don't think that they don't have feelings just cuz a radish can't scream.

Chorus:
I've heard the screams of the vegetables, (Scream, scream, scream.)
Watching their skins being peeled. (Having their insides revealed.)
Grated and steamed with no mercy. (Burning off calories.)
How do you think that feels? (Bet it hurts really bad.)
Carrot juice constitutes murder. (And that's a real crime.)
Greenhouses prisons for slaves. (Let my vegetables grow.)
It's time to stop all this gardening. (It's dirty as hell.)
Let's call a spade a spade. (Is a spade, is a spade, is a spade.)

I saw a man eating celery so I beat him black and blue.
If he ever touches a sprout again, I'll bite him clean in two.
I'm political prisoner trapped in a windowless cage,
Cause I stopped the slaughter of turnips by killing five men in a rage.
I told the judge when he sentenced me, "This is my finest hour
I'd kill those farmers again just to save one more cauliflower."

Chorus:
I've heard the screams of the vegetables, (Scream, scream, scream.)
Watching their skins being peeled. (Having their insides revealed.)
Grated and steamed with no mercy. (Burning off calories)
How do you think that feels? (Bet it hurts really bad.)
Carrot juice constitutes murder. (And that's a real crime.)
Greenhouses prisons for slaves. (Let my vegetables grow.)
It's time to stop all this gardening. (It's dirty as hell.)
Let's call a spade a spade. (Is a spade, is a spade, is a spade.)

How low as people do we dare to stoop
Making young broccolis bleed in the soup.
Untie your beans, uncage your tomatoes, Let potted plants free.
Don't mash that potato,
Oh, spare the spider, Eat up calories, Oh!

Chorus:
I've heard the screams of the vegetables, (Scream, scream, scream)
Watching their skins being peeled. (Fates in the stir fry are sealed.)
Grated and steamed with no mercy. (You fat gourmet scum.)
How do you think that feels? (Leave them out in the fields.)
Carrot juice constitutes murder. (V8's genocide.)
Greenhouses prisons for slaves. (Yes your compost's a grave.)
It's time to stop all this gardening. (Take up macramé.)
Let's call a spade a spade. (Is a spade, is a spade, is a spade.)