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Hate Mail

by Ste McCabe

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1.
It's Ironic but true, I've had all kinds of abuse But the only ignorance I've suffered lately was from you I queue up in the cold to be open and free So why is it I feel bitchy eyes staring at me? When you have to camp it up just to get inside Is it any wonder that this is the land of stereotypes? I don't want to disco dance, and I don't want to celebrate Being free in our own segregated little way So when you speak to me don't try to partonise It doesn't work when there is buggar all behind your eyes I can't afford your friendship, cannot take your pace It's lucky that I'd sooner tear the skin from my own face Your bourgeois pretenses do nothing for me And I was never really a fan of misogyny So I'm going home to my unwanted straight friends Who only ever showed support and love regardless of your trends Back-stabbing is in, solidarity is out And now it's only drinking borders that we march about And when the homophobes come to take us out They will leave when they see you scratching each other's eyes out.
2.
Hate Mail 01:30
It seems I can't get away from high browed faces Talking about abolishing races I've been around this place for way too long I know that what you don't understand must be wrong Well the Daily Mail must make you feel Like your nasty little ways have mass appeal You've got style, I must confess For a piggy little hitler in a floral dress I've got to get out of here The smell of middle England gives me The Fear I'm the story that makes you sick And what's my crime? Well take your pick It all seems a little unfair Earth calling Tory land, anyone there? You've got wisdom I must conclude For a sheltered old yuppie who calls ignorance truth Now one, two, three, four Who's the piggy that we'll ignore? Five, six, seven, eight For all the immigrants who you hate Nine, ten, eleven, twelve You and your family values can rot in hell You've got views, you proudly explain But you're the hypnotised playing out a therapists game.
3.
Men who know themselves so well, men who have stories to tell Men like confused little children, hiding, shy and all bewildered Men who just want to stick in in and throw you out when they are finished Men who talk about monogamy, lying their way into monotany I raise a glass to the day we parted, don't spare me, I'm not broken hearted Maybe I'm no good at this, but you my love are full of bullshit Men with their hands in their pockets think they can buy you with a double vodka Men who are so proud of their cocks, well that's amazing, but guess what? I've got one too Men with money, men with none, this mental illness is too far gone I can see the tell-tale sign, it's in your trousers when they rise I raise a glass to the day we parted, don't spare me, I'm not broken hearted Maybe I'm no good at this, but you my love are full of bullshit Men who are stupid, men who are smart Men who look like they're a work of art Men who are ugly, men who are cute Men who are serious, men who are aloof Men who are interesting, men who are bores Men with principles, men who are whores Men who are happy, men who are sad Men who are mature, men who act like lads Men who are top, men who are bottom Don't ask me what I am 'cause I've fuckin well forgotten Men who are straight, bi or gay Talking about themselves again, well not today I'm not bitter, no, no, no No, no no!
4.
Fire 02:33
I see you in the past, and your pain my love it won't last This is your way to get them back, but I'm afraid you're on the wrong track Their rules are rigid and you won't fit in with your crazy plans Although you push in and you demand, your head is buried in the sand You won't set the world on fire, the situation's way too die You will have to make your own space now You don't have the cash to shine, you can't buy so you'll just hire Go and make your own space and watch it grow This town is full of fools trying to fit in with their rules And if you can't eat, well you'll just drool but it's a banquet that would poison you So do something far away from what they expect and when they say That you're too weird to perform or play, well aren't you used to that anyway? It's not always what it seems and neither are your fancy dreams But to succeed you'd have to change forever Censoring what makes you important will make you acceptable But you'll forget just what you're fighting for We won't set the world on fire, the situation's way too dire We will have to make our own space now If you want to come in, then don't pay us and bring your own gin Come to our space and watch it grow.
5.
Huyton Scum 02:14
Tommo is a hard knock, knows his way 'round here Everybody moves away when he comes near Knife in his pocket, hand on his balls Walking like he doesn't know how to walk at all Tommo always stoned, don't know what day it is Which is a shame 'cause sober he's exceptionally thick Tommo always angry, Tommo never cry Except when they get serious on "Footballers Wives" No, he don't like the women, says women are all sluts Although he's barely touched one 'cause he hasn't got the guts He don't like the Asians, says they're gonna bomb us all Although he's barely spoken to a single one at all He don't like the Polish "cause they'll take all the jobs" Although he'd rather kill himself than ever get a job He don't like the dykes, says they're all just like men Why don't they wanna fuck him like the porno mags say? Oh! Tommo is a hard knock, knows his way 'round here Everybody moves away when he comes near Knife in his pocket, hand on his balls Walking like he doesn't know how to walk at all Tommo always stoned, don't know what day it is Which is a shame 'cause sober he's exceptionally thick Tommo always angry, Tommo never cry Except when they get serious on "Footballers Wives" No, he don't like the queers, queers make him sick Even the ones he forces to go down and suck his dick He don't like the Irish, he don't like the blacks But when asked to join the BNP he said, "What's that?" He would hate the working class if he weren't so poor He would love his granny if she weren't so fucking old He would love his brother if his brother weren't a "spaz" He would love his mother if she weren't so fucking fat Go home! Go home No-one loves you, Tommo Go home Go home Oh Tommo, Tommo, just fuck off home! No one loves you.
6.
I've seen the way that you crawl Into the backsides of people who expose you You'd turn you back on it all To be accessable to all Don't come and wave the flag 'cause This is not, not your party You'd censor everything to sell it out so This is not, not your party Honey I've got a long memory I know what you think about me Repeat that love-sick line and call it "queer" I doubt there's all that much between your ears Thinking "What did age of consent mean anyway? well I don't know" Don't come and wave the flag 'cause This is not, not your party You'd censor everything to sell it out so This is not, not your party Don't come and wave the flag 'cause This is not, not your party You'd censor everything to sell it out so This is not, not your party Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch! x4 If I'm predictable with my same old themes What does that make an air-head with rock'n'roll dreams? If it's sexual but with no sexuality It could be hetero or bestiality I know you're craving to go far While my pay-cheque hopes all stop at the bar And while you're making all the right sounds I know it's killing you being underground, so Don't come and wave the flag 'cause This is not, not your party You'd censor everything to sell it out so This is not, not your party Ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch! x4
7.
"That's life", that's what they say, sit in your own shit and leave it that way Is this a bad soap opera on repeat or is it just another day? Dare you do something new or just sit and smoke the day away? When life gets stale and it starts to decay I'll always up and run away To my mistake - you can't hurt me a-ha To my job - you can't chain me a-ha To the bank - you're not gonna get my money no I'm gonna run and I need no-one beside me now No, I don't know what's coming But why does that have to be daunting? I'm running on taxpayers money a-ha You're in control, you can make your own choice, why do you push away that voice? No-one's gonna make you happy, not a man who acts like a boy Because in the end back it will come and spoil the night when it was meant to be fun I know what this will do to you but something's got to break before I do I don't know what I'm looking for a-ha They say that happiness is going too far a-ha I don't know why my feelings change, no/but don't push me while I'm in this state, no No I don't know what coming But why does it have to be daunting? I'm running on taxpayers money a-ha You're not gonna hold me back a-ha I'm only a little off-track a-ha You want attention but you'll have to look elsewhere I would react, but I don't really care No I don't know what's coming But why does that have to be daunting? I'm running on taxpayers money a-ha
8.
Licking crumbs up from your table We're willing now that we are able In your ridiculous childrens fable You lock the race-horse in it's stable And that is how they want us to be The painful cliches that they call "free" This is how we earn our money Another camp joke that isn't funny With a limp wrist, and a shopping list I commit to this farce and I'll kiss the straight guy's arse Horsey runs into the fence Making jokes at his own expense Real live people came and went Now they called televised cliches "past tense" Humour runs down a one-way street Of stereotypes and self-defeat I'll propose something that you'll ignore It's dyke-free and worse than ever before So with a limp wrist, and a shopping list I'll get on my scabby knees and I'll suck the straight guys dick With a limp wrist, and a shopping list I commit to this farce and I'll kiss the straight guys arse Now with a limp wrist, and a shopping list I'll get on my bloody knees and I'll suck the straight guys dick With a limp wirist, and a shopping list I commit to this farce and I'll kiss the straight guys arse/with a limp wrist!
9.
Bedsitter 02:36
Sunday morning going slowI'm talking to the radio Clothes and records on the floor The memories of the night before Out in club land having fun And now I'm hiding from the sun Waiting for a visitor But no-one know's I'm here for sure I think it's time to cook a meal To fill the emptiness I feel Spend my money going out I've nothing in I'm left without Clean my teeth and comb my hair And look for something new to wear Start the nightlife over again And kid myself I'm having fun Dancing, laughing, drinking, loving And now I'm all alone In bedsit land my only home I look out from my window view There's really nothing else to do Read a book maybe write a letter Mother, things are getting better Watch the mirror Count the lines The battle scars of all the good times I look around and I can see A thousand people just like me.
10.
I'm moving on and up in my life So what's that in my back? Well surely not a knife? You say that it's all in my mind If I've been here once I've been here a hundred times One for the child you mocked When I was ashamed of the sound of my own voice One for the broken record That keeps on playing over and over Now there's too many to count For every fuckin day that I walk through town One for the queers on TV Playing up to every stereotype they forced upon me One for the dead bodies That keep on piling up while were dropping E's One for these liberal times Where homophobia is all in a queer's mind Broken record.
11.
If you've got 2 or 3 minutes for my life story Then sit back while I revel in my glory It started with football and me running away Skipping in the back yard and no-one else would play Well it's not an unusual narrative For a gay boy in a backward town to find it hard to live While Thatcher was cooking up the section 28 scheme And setting up the picture for my teenage years, ok Find the sickest boy in town He'll be hiding his arse when I'm around Think of the sickest rumours And all of your friends turning Judas Now you can call me bitter, call me nasty Hate my guts and make me happy But I am not about to forget When teachers turned their backs, and to it I was left And as for football I remember when and where Gerrard would call me queer and spit in my hair So you will forgive me if I turn over When world cup fever takes the country over With a flag that's been adopted by a racist party Find the sickest boy in town He'll be hiding his arse when I'm around Think of the sickest rumours And all of your friends turning Judas See, it's not about fitting in Hell I don't even know what the fuck a twink is See, I know one day that I'll be 65 And with 13 cats, I'll be puking in a high-rise Dreading my own miserable demise And saying "Those were the days, those were the days..." And then I'll laugh myself to death Ha ha!

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All songs written by Ste McCabe except "Bedsitter" written by Soft Cell.

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released October 1, 2008

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Ste McCabe Edinburgh, UK

Archived releases from Ste McCabe. Queer pop punk (UK).

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