John Walker's Electronic House

Right, you’re going to have to squeeze your eyes tight shut if you’re afraid of a bit of a swear.

Below are the lyrics to the King Missile song, It’s Saturday, which until the RIAA and BPI catch me and imprison me for the rest of my unnatural life, is here to STEAL LIKE A PIRATE.

It goes like this:

I want to be different, like everybody else I want to be like.
I want to be just like all the different people.
I have no further interest in being the same,
because I have seen difference all around,
and now I know that that’s what I want.
I don’t want to blend in and be indistinguishable,
I want to be a part of the different crowd,
and assert my individuality along with the others,
who are different like me.
I don’t want to be identical to anyone or anything.
I don’t even want to be identical to myself.
I want to look in the mirror and wonder,
“who is that person? I’ve never seen that person before;
I’ve never seen anyone like that before.”
I want to call into question the very idea that
identity can be attached.
I want a floating, shifting, ever changing persona:
Invisibility and obscurity,
detachment from the ego and all of its pursuits.
Unity is useless.
Comformity is competitive and divisive and leads only to
stagnation and death.
If what I’m saying doesn’t make any sense,
that’s because sense can not be made.
It’s something that must be sensed.
And I, for one, am incensed by all this complacency.
Why oppose war only when there’s a war?
Why defend the clinics only when they’re attacked?
Why are we always reactive?
Let’s activate something.
Let’s fuck shit up.
Whatever happened to revolution for the hell of it?
Whatever happened to protesting nothing in particular,
just protesting ’cause it’s Saturday and there’s nothing else to do?