Texty: Million Dead. Other. I Am The Party.

Well you can tell by the way I move my feet that I'm a genuine insurrectionary
It's a kind of nervous shuffle that contrasts so well with Bolshevik bravado.
And you can tell by the way I raise my hand - not in a fist but for a question.
Take out your manifestos and then put them away.
I implore you to ignore every word I say.
And if my status as a figure on a stage implies authority,
I hope my caution and my age belies my humility
And will to take my rage and try to turn myself into a one-man landslide.
Let's kick it off with a leafleting campaign and follow it up with some public meetings.
Pressing flesh and kissing babies as I smile and promise things are getting better.
I am the party.
The apparatchik and the grey bureaucracy.
I am the secret police.
Manufacturing a constituency that doesn't answer back.

I found these words in my bedroom underneath old magazines.
And I found this voice in my record collection Distorting tapes kicked analysis awake.
You found this song but you didn't question Swallowed the sleeve but didn't see my tongue inside my cheek.

I am the politburo
I am the velvet revolution
A Budapest kick from fifty-six and so:
Let's all go hand in hand to the local polling station and make our own categories then vote for ourselves.