Cowboys Became Folk Heroes - Shelf Life Of Drama (Spoken word lyrics in the description)

Описание: Finally found a scan of the insert that included the lyrics for the spoken word during the first half of this song. There are 4 band members reciting 4 different poems at the same time:

1. Hello, my name is Expansion, and I am your typical cowboy. From the east I hailed a cab in the wind and in the dust. I watched as flags were placed in homes, then ruins and claimed victory. It was in the name of god and glory upon which I arrived. And I documented all that I saw with snapshots as the wagon headed west. Rounding up all life that was found and then confining it to a small plot of land. We assessed and and placed value and merit upon which we stole. That which was not wanted was killed, that which was wanted was eventually killed too. We watched the mirror as our bodies grew red under the heat of the sun and desire for more. We were not content with just one or two. We confined and constricted. Open land became private and reservations became holding tanks and holding tanks became cages and cages became graves. With lassoes swung high, "autopsy! autopsy!" they shouted, and the Cowboys Became Folk Heroes. You are not my hero.

2. Hello, my name is Capitalism, and I am your typical cowboy. From the veins of desire I bought a ticket in the flow of blood through and out of the body. I watched as pride was marketed into homes and later ruins. It was in the name of self and glory upon which I arrived. And I documented all that I raped with snapshots as the wagon headest west. Rounding up all life that was found and then confining it to a small cubicle. We assessed and placed value and merit upon which we stole. That which was not desirable was destroyed, eventually all that was touched was destroyed. We watched as our bellies brew in girth and outgrew our belts and pants. We confined and constricted. Open minds became unified thoughts, unified thoughts became blank slates, blank slates became sheep pens, sheep pens became cages, and cages became graves. With lassoes swung high, "autopsy! autopsy!" they shouted, and the Cowboys Became Folk Heroes. You are not my hero.

3. Hello, my name is Marketing, and I am your typical cowboy. From the birth of desire I rode a horse named Pride into the westward setting sun. I watched as my name was placed in homes and minds, It was in the name of expansion and glory upon which I arrived. And I documented all that I stole with a camcorder and sold the images of emptyness to empty life, calling it substance and necessity. We assessed and and placed value and merit upon which we stole. That which was profitable was sold, and that which was not profitabled was marketed under a new name and sold. We watched the mirror as our images multiplied and mutated into thieves and murderers. We confined and constricted morals. Morals became novelties, novelties became products, products became life, life became marketable. With lassoes swung high, "autopsy! autopsy!" they shouted, and the Cowboys Became Folk Heroes. You are not my hero.

4. Hello, my name is Government, and I am your typical cowboy. From the scepter of kings and queens I beat the knave and the pauper into submission with empty promises. I watched as my rules were posted in homes and imprinted in hearts. It was in the name of expansion, glory, pride, selfishness, desire, and god (or rather myself) upon which I arrived. And I documented all that I stole, raped, killed, and destroyed through false hope and misguided direction with snapshots as the wagon headed west. Rounding up all life that was found and then confining it to designated classes of value. We assessed and and placed value and merit upon all life. That which was needed was pumped for all it was worth, that which was not needed was swept under a rug of ignorance. We watched as flags waved and pride was mysteriously shouted at like a high school pep rally. Everything became someone's property. Property became theft, reservations turned into ghettos, public housing became private storage sheds, storage became easier underground, and graves became property. With lassoes swung high, "autopsy! autopsy!" they shouted, and the Cowboys Became Folk Heroes. You are not my hero.