A Terrified Thing with Feathers

by Johnny Panic & the Bible of Dreams

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about

This is not about a former Home Secretary. Instead, it’s an attempt to try and reconfigure my thinking to stating what a better world might look like rather than being distracted by the trends of rage and division that wash upon us like that sewage they have now..

Also see the video youtu.be/VFmUvoo_YHE?si=ldVpEAoVV4p4PBkx

lyrics

Painting Out Suella Mouse

I have a dream that one day all the food banks will be no more:
The lost souls supping by the Bridge will have real support
There’ll be a school recorder orchestra in every former sink estate
driving parents mad playing a quarter tone flat;
And people come out Wednesdays to clap bus drivers and carers,
and that lady with the lisp in the Coop who labours;

I have a dream today; a tatty thing with feathers,
I have a dream.

That the vision of kids will lift to a calling supporting
Old Billy who bundles his life on his bike;
That workers paying taxes which pay for granny’s carers
Will get statues much grander than stately home slavers;
That Twitter flag-men bitter spitting feathers will find
compassion more alpha than dog-whistle banter;

I have a dream today; a frightened thing with feathers,
I have a dream.

That the grieving widower no longer will feel the need
to doomscroll a thrill in rubber rainwear;
That people realise punk passed away in 77
and think of something original instead of buying it like vintage trainers;
That Range Rover owners who’ve previously looked down and told us
how to cook dinners might discover the bonus
in breezing down to Tesco on a bike with a basket
and bump into friends on the way;

I have a dream today; a fickle thing with feathers,
I have a dream.

Where the church will stay on its knees, save the drowning refugees,
serve them breakfast on the beach in penitence for pervy priests;
And one day we’re reminded when a child almost died,
stepped in front of a bus or got that gruesome prognosis
and drag from our chests decaying screams of disbelief,
point them at the sickly world like Moses’ staff at the Red Sea
in love for all we hated and do a rough equation that doesn’t equal a cremation,
of forests, ice caps or a child shoved back into mad seas of lies.

I have a dream today, that keeps me awake at night
A terrified thing with feathers