From the album Moth No Rust

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Lyrics


If you bring forth what is within you, what you bring forth will save you, what you do not bring forth will destroy you.
- The Gospel Of Thomas, 70.


We are the artists sweeping the floors.
We are the poets sending out the Spam.
We’re the prophets doing all the dishes.
We are the misemployed and we’re working for The Man.


We are the bad backs doing all the heavy lifting,
the children mentoring the elders.
We’re the engineers wearing the nametags
and we are soldiers trained as welders.


We’re fishermen on the tar sands,
the night shift dragging into day.
We are the millwrights doing telemarketing
in a call centre still called Thunder Bay,
in a call centre still called Thunder Bay.


And if we keep what’s within us,
ah, if we keep what’s within us,
what’s within us will kill us
but if we give what’s within us,
ah, if we give what’s within us,
what’s within us will save us.


And we were nurses back home in Kingston
and now we’re cleaning ladies in Toronto tonight.
We’re the single moms shopping at Wal-Mart -
we can’t afford the luxury to do what’s right.


We’re pitchers at bat, goons on the power play,
we’re the fans that can’t afford a seat.
We are the dieticians serving up the All-Day Breakfast,
the vegans that are hanging up the near dead meat.


We’re lawyers but we are in business.
Yes, we’re corporate and we are individuals by law.
We’re the babysitters that are raising our kids
and we’re free to vote and be enslaved by it all,
yeah, we are free to vote and be enslaved by it all.


And if we keep what’s within us,
ah, if we keep what’s within us,
what’s within us will kill us
but if we give what’s within us,
ah, if we give what’s within us,
what’s within us will save us.


And we’re the actors teaching our kids at school.
We are the dancers waiting on the tables.
We’re the new and well-lettered illiterate
looking for a parking spot for the vocationally disabled.


We’re the service charge that used to be interest
and we’re the grifters that are managing the banks.
And we’re the academics hooking up the draught tank.
We are your hosts here: ‘We appreciate your business, thanks.’




We are the Shamans preaching the Gospel,
we’re the Christians arming for war.
We are the men, the women: The first children
living at the end of metaphor.


We’re administrators in the pulpit
and we’re decisively agnostic in the pews.
We’re the journalists working at The Second Cup.
And we’re the statisticians reading us the news.


We are the Marxists when there’s nothing on TV.
We live bourgeois - our debt is proletariat.
We bought a used copy of Solzhenitsyn once -
we haven’t had a chance to pick it up yet.


We’re farmers building the suburbs.
We’re enumerators telling us the hard truths.
We’re the contractors drawing up the town plans.
We’re the shy girls tonguing in the kissing booths.


We’re the plumbers getting rid of the knob and tube.
We’re wannabe models showing us our new home.
We’re MBA CAs, minimum wage BAs
and we’re Team Building but we’re all alone.


We are historians at the front desk.
And we’re the social workers counting up the till.
And we’re the crane operator with the English degree
and we know we got a book or two in us still.


We’re the copywriters doing the curating.
We are the doctors driving the cabs.
We are the specialists and we’re trying to change a tire.
We’re your union delegates working as scabs.

We’re anaesthetists, ah, but we’re faith healing.
We’re sportscasters with political views.
We are the snake handlers advising elites -
we do that downtown voodoo on the dollar for you.


We are the Folk Singers singin’ pop songs.
And we’re that ‘yo-sayin’-ho-playin’-wigga-wit-‘tude and no point of view -
we’re misogynists ‘wit da wall 2 wall totty –
gots G Cred, M-2-da-Y Space, too’.


We are retired but we are still working.
Yes, we’re linguists teaching business-speak.
We are the bards eulogizing tradition.
O, the time is up for you, Easy Irony.
The time is up for you, Easy Irony!


So, bring on a brand new shared suffering!
Bring on a brand new something heavy!
“Bring on the brand new Renaissance,” Gord,
‘Cause we know we’re ready.
Yeah, ‘cause we know we’re ready.




(optional live verse:


No, this is not the way it has to be!
No, this is not the End of History!
No, this is not the way it has to be!
No, this is not the End of History!)


And if we keep what’s within us,
if we keep what’s within us,
what’s within us will kill us
but if we give what’s within us,
Ah, if we give what’s within us,
what’s within us will save us.