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lyrics

There's something wrong with Ray he's messing with his brother,
Nobody cares not even their mother.
He's spitting at him, causing him bother,
No-one bats an eyelid not even their father.
You give him an inch and he takes a mile,
Does it all with a very coy smile.
Whispering insults under his breath,
Ray is starving his brother to death.

Is Ray ill?
I think he is,
I think he is,
I think he is.
Is Ray ill?
I think he is,
I think he is.
Is Ray ill?
I think he is,
I think he is,
I think he is.
Israel.

Fuck the metaphor it's a waste of time,
People are dying in Palestine.
But don't say a word to upset the beast,
Because the U.S need their foothold in the Middle East.
There's no point in having this debate,
There's always going to be a Zionist state.
But when you mix religion with politics,
You always get the same bitches and dicks.
Arguing about God,
Arguing about soil,
Then you realise it's all about oil.
Deserts will burn,
Oceans will boil,
Aw Ray is getting awfully spoiled.

Is Ray ill?
I think he is,
I think he is,
I think he is.
Is Ray ill?
I think he is,
I think he is.
Is Ray ill?
I think he is,
I think he is,
I think he is.
Israel.

credits

from Selected Recordings From The Album Trilogy, released February 7, 2016

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The Crytearions Belmullet, Ireland

Lo-fi punk by an Irish man.

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