Para recoger las horas perdidas
hay que coger las zorras perdidas...

Oh Atlantic is swell and New Yorker is gay
and the Times remains solid, a trusted mainstay...
but the greatest of all, and eclipsing these bores
is the valiant field-marshall of Info Wars.

When the dinosaur media die in the flood,
and our nation is thirsting for globalist blood
and what's news is left leaning towards formula-fake
every patriot knows: there's a vaccine to take !

Yes, there's Time for a Newsweek or Washington Post
and a glib documentary from CNN's host;
there's a Fox for your henhouse, there's Anderson C.
with a wink for the pretty-boys on your TV—

And of course there is Megyn (forgot her last name)
who lined up a hot date to accuse and to blame
but our wily commander escaped from the fray
with the evidence taped and the hounds still at bay.

We love Rachel Maddow. She's pert and she's quick
as she bludgeons the foe with that MSN shtick
but our Alex is scourging these media-******:
the intrepid commander of Info Wars.

With his supplements ready, he's up for the fight.
He's the heart of God's own anti-globalist Right.
He's enraging the tyrants. He's on to their tricks
(just like seventeen-hundred and seventy-six).

You can love him or hate him, support or berate
at your peril (our own Alexander the Great),
but please—do not misunderestimate.
He is less a George Bush and much more a Tom Paine
whose pure diatribes render the traitors insane.

So we love him. He's right. He has answered the call,
and we are the resistance. Let wickedness fall.
He possesses their gates. He's unhinging their doors;
the untouchable captain of InfoWars.

Yes, he's hoarse and abrasive—a cowboy with grace
as he spits it right back in the globalist's face.
He's got millions of hits for each hundred of yours
not to mention his elixirs, ammo, and cures.

He's the lion of Austin, renowned for his roar
that empowers the zoo while he's upping the score.
An attempt to suppress him will bring on the worst
and his beasts will defend what his enemies cursed.

Transnational sociopaths, bankers and thugs
and the globalist criminals pushing their drugs
when the dust finally clears will be scrubbing his floors:
he's king of the castle of InfoWars.

If his martyrdom happens, he'll rise from the dead
and then multiply YouTubes like fishes and bread.
Resurrected, revived, he'll ignite civil war
till you wish you had known what the Lord had in store.

If you hate him, you ****; you're a traitor at heart.
Don't belittle his gifting, his talent, his art.
If you cannot discern what is writ on your wall
then get out of the way. Let your empire fall.

Do not act cavalier, or he'll Cromwell your town
it will only blow up if you take the man down.
He's our knight; come the day and the laurels are ready...
hold back; keep your wit and your armaments steady.

My words shall strew honor where honor is due:
on the crown of each head of the InfoWars crew—
till his voice, with a vengeance, shall break on far shores;
the tsunami (and swami) of InfoWars.

Let tyrants shake their iron rod,
And Slav’ry clank her galling chains,
We fear them not, we trust in God,
New England’s God forever reigns.

Howe and Burgoyne and Clinton too,
With Prescot and Cornwallis join’d,
Together plot our Overthrow,
In one Infernal league combin’d.

When God inspir’d us for the fight,
Their ranks were broke, their lines were forc’d,
Their ships were Shatter’d in our sight,
Or swiftly driven from our Coast.

The Foe comes on with haughty Stride;
Our troops advance with martial noise,
Their Vet’rans flee before our Youth,
And Gen’rals yield to beardless Boys.

What grateful Off’ring shall we bring?
What shall we render to the Lord?
Loud Halleluiahs let us Sing,
And praise his name on ev’ry Chord.

Robinson Jeffers (1887 – 1962)*


While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity, heavily thickening to empire
And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sighs out, and the mass hardens,
I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit rots to make earth.
Out of the mother; and through the spring exultances, ripeness and decadence; and home to the mother.

You making haste haste on decay: not blameworthy; life is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly

A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains:  shine, perishing republic.

But for my children, I would have them keep their distance from the thickening center; corruption
Never has been compulsory, when the cities lie at the monster’s feet there are left the mountains.
And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant, insufferable master.
There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught–they say– God, when he walked on earth.

Turn the lights down / way down low
Turn up the music / hi as fi can go
All the gang’s here / everyone you know
It’s a crazy scene (hey there just look over your shoulder..)
Get the picture?  No, no, no, no …  (YES)
Walk a tightrope / your life-sign-line
Such a bright hope / right place, right time
What’s your number? / never you mind
Take a powder (but hang on a minute what’s coming round the corner?)
Have you a future? No, no, no, no …  (YES)
Well I’ve been up all night (again?) / Party-time wasting is too much fun
Then I step back thinking of life’s inner meaning and my latest fling
It’s the same old story / all love and glory – It’s a pantomime
If you’re looking for love in a looking-glass world it’s pretty hard to find
Oh mother of pearl I wouldn’t trade you for another girl
Divine intervention – always my intention, so I take my time
I’ve been looking for something I’ve always wanted but was never mine
But now I’ve seen that something just out of reach, glowing very Holy Grail
Oh mother of pearl, lustrous lady of a sacred world
Thus even Zarathustra, another-time-loser, could believe in you
With every goddess a let down, every idol a bring down –
it gets you down…
But the search for perfection, your own predilection
goes on and on and on and on…
Canadian Club love: a place in the country – everyone’s ideal
But you are my favorita,
and a place in your heart, dear makes me feel more real.
Oh mother of pearl – I wouldn’t change you for the whole world
You’re highbrow, holy with lots of soul melancholy shimmering…
Serpentine sleekness was always my weakness; like a simple tune
But no dilettante, filigree fancy, beats the plastic you
Career girl cover, exposed and another slips right into-view
Oh looking for love in a looking glass world is pretty hard for you
Few throwaway kisses, the boomerang misses, spin round and round
Fall on featherbed quilted, faced with silk softly-stuffed eider down
Take refuge in pleasure- just give me your future, we’ll forget your past…
Oh mother of pearl, submarine lover in a shrinking world.
Oh lonely dreamer your choker provokes a picture cameo
Oh mother of pearl, so-so semi-precious in your detached world.
Oh mother of pearl – I wouldn’t trade you for another girl

© E.G. Music Ltd 1973