Fatalist
Baba Brinkman

It takes individuals to make statistics

With sophistication the shapes get shifted

The risks we take make the race ballistic

So shake your fist or get fatalistic


I’ve gotta make a list of reasons why I’m not a fatalist

That’s not a way to live with the weight of this world the way it is

You can push paperclips for the sake of your kids

Or shake your tits and wait tables for minimum wage and tips

Or relax in a state of bliss, trapped in the Matrix

Watching the latest clips of fallen dictatorships

Eating potato chips with flavourless dips

But to achieve weightlessness, you must believe you created this

Whether it’s done consciously or unconsciously

Whether you walk nonchalantly or run constantly

Whether you live under palm trees or march to the drum’s beat

Complicity comes back to haunt your sleep

And pride and obstinacy, like monsters, creep

Inside these songs of freedom the soul longs to speak

You gotta sow if you wanna reap; still, karma runs deep

Sometimes you can’t see the cause of cosmic grief


It takes individuals to make statistics

With sophistication the shapes get shifted

The risks we take make the race ballistic

So shake your fist or get fatalistic


In the East, soldiers roam with raging hormones

With radiophones they bring the sword to stones

And lay poor bones to decay in war zones

As the oldest poems and ancient lore known

Gets ignored and thrown on the floor when the door’s blown

Looters roar home; there’s no more shalom

A sore groan rises from inside the Sorbonne

As another throne tries for the glory of Rome

And when the mousetraps close, send in the backhoes


And start drillin’ the plateaus, lookin’ for black gold

Wherever the map shows gas, tank tracks go

G. I. Joe attacks… Damascus ho!

It’s like, first to act, last to know, ain’t that so

But even the biggest assholes and total wackos

Must have souls that reflect the supernatural

They just catch colds and forget about the macro


It takes individuals to make statistics

With sophistication the shapes get shifted

It takes individuals to make statistics

With sophistication the shapes get shifted

It takes individuals to make statistics

With sophistication the shapes get shifted

The risks we take make the race ballistic

So shake your fist or get fatalistic


Spirit sickness grows deep as we dig ditches

And pig pen pits, asleep to the big pictures

And even those who witness the sickness just get suspicious

And turn to scriptures lookin’ for reasons to burn witches

There’s so many pernicious ways to earn riches

And so many kitchens bursting with vermin and dirty dishes

I hope the first thirty-six courses were delicious

And worth every risk, ‘cause dessert’ll be vicious

Like a circle with the center waitin’ patient for penetration

Like a flag incineration on a day of veneration

In a veteran’s parade, afraid of intimidation

A sleeping dragon’s been awakened and the next generation

Will face the implications and waste their innovations

Building gates to defend their nation against the hateful vengeance taken

On the same men impatient to put limitations

On reproductive freedom and call it bush administration


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Lyrics by Baba Brinkman

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