Crass was an influential English anarchist punkband. Crass formed in 1977, based around Dial House, an 'open house community' near Epping, Essex, in England. Whereas the Sex Pistols' anarchism seemed to be a self-consciously nihilistic prank, Crass's stance was more directly linked to the libertarian socialist or communalistic varieties of 20th century political thought. Taking literally the punk manifesto of "Do It Yourself", Crass combined the use of song, film, sound collage, graphics and subversion to launch a sustained and innovative critical broadside against all that they saw as a culture built on foundations of war, violence, sexism, religious hypocrisy and unthinking consumerism. They were also amongst the progenitors of the anarcho-pacifism that became pervasive in the punkmusic scene (see also anarcho-punk).
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Crass
I am product, I am a symbol
Of endless, hopeless, fruitless, aimless games
I'm a glossy package on the supermarket shelf
My contents aren't fit for human consumption
I could tragically injure your perfect health
My ingredients will seize up your bodys function
I am the dirt that everyone walks on
I am the orphan nobody wants
I am the staircarpet everyone uses
I am the leper nobody wants to touch....much
I am a sample, I am a scapegoat
For useless, futureless, endless, mindless ideas.
I am a number on the paper you file away
Portfolio you stick in the drawer
I'm the fool you try to scare when you say
"We know all about you, of that you can be sure"
I don't want your crazy system
I don't want to be on your files
Your temptations I try to resist them
Cos I know what hides beneath your smiles,
Its.........EST
I am a topic, I am a subject
For useless, futureless, endless, mindless debates
You think up ways that you can hide me
From the naive eyes of your figurehead
But don't you find that it ain't easy?
Wouldn't you love to see me dead?
Answer is to give me treatment
For crying out when you give me pain
Leaves me with no possible remnant
Poke your knives into my brain
You send me insane
I'm an example, I'm no hero
Of the great, intelligent, magnificent, human race
Well I'm part of the race that kills for possessions
Part of the race that's wiping itself out
Part of the race that's got crazy obsessions
Locking people up, not letting them out
Hate the living dead and their work in factories
Go like sheep to their production lines
Live on illusions, don't face the realities
All they live for is that big blue sign
It says, it says FORD
I'M BORED, BORED, BORED, BORED