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• Artiste: Tripod
• Titre: Suicide Bomber
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Scod: They used dogs on me They used blindfolds They embarrassed me in the nude They gave shocks to me with electrodes They deprived me of my food Scod: They paraded me round the prison Chained up to other men And with every task, One question they asked Over and over and over again, they said... Scod: “Aren't you the suicide bomber Who blew up the bus last year?” I say, “No,” they say, “Yes,” I say, “You're not thinking it through,” But they went off and thought up some new things to doooooo So they soaked me with cold water And they left me there overnight They put outlandish costumes upon me And took photographs of my plight Scod: They accused me of brutal behaviour Whilst they kicked me in the balls And with every task, One question they asked Echoing off of the cold prison walls, they said... Scod: “Aren't you the suicide bomber Who blew up the bus last year?” I said, “No,” they punched me, I said, “Think logically,” And they said, “You think logically!” And I said, “What?” Tripod: (All whistle and then someone does something visual which the audience laughs at, if you know what please e-mail me) Scod: Psychological torture Has cleared things right up for me There's one thing I know, When they let me go, I will be the man that they want me to be Scod: Yes, I'll be the suicide bomber I'll blow up a bus one day And so will my son Tripod: And his son after that Scod: And then some poor new guy Tripod: Will sit where I sat And he will be forced to wear poo for a hat Scod: And so on and so fucking forth, Tripod: Amen