Protest Songs

The Tyranny of Words 🎵 Among the ancient whispers of Westminster's grace, A new tongue arises, bruising truth in its haste. Newspeak, the language of glittering generalities, Makes of thoughts a cage and dignity a casualty. The lexicon, a magician, with a sleight of hand, Transforms children into pawns, calling innocence to the stand. New words are but tricksters, coiled like a snake, As honesty is stricken by vipers of state. "Rape," "trafficking," "murder," name them without fear, Let them echo. Let them sear. Let truth be the storm that tears down the veil, Let justice be the wind that follows on its trail. In Oldham's heart, a dark carnival thrives, Where purity is defiled under pitiless skies. Grooming, a mask worn at this macabre ball, Hides the fangs of rape, the real beast of the hall. Imagine each child, a candle in the gloom, Their glow extinguished, their flame's last fume Leaving but shadows on the hallowed earth, Their sobs, their laughter, robbed of mirth. "Rape," "trafficking," "murder," name them without fear, Let them echo. Let them sear. Let truth be the storm that tears down the veil, Let justice be the wind that follows on its trail. For decades, cries of victims were muffled by the state, "Concerns of race," they say, reframing alarm as hate. "Lifestyle choices," the children were blamed, Their dignity stripped, their voices shamed. The media, the guardians, the politicians in their suits, Weaving dark narratives, cloaking hard truths. Making "diversity" a shield, and "inclusion" a sword, To silence concern, to call it discord. "Rape," "trafficking," "murder," name them without fear, Let them echo. Let them sear. Let truth be the storm that tears down the veil, Let justice be the wind that follows on its trail. With righteous fire in our hearts, with a purging light, Let us cleanse this land of its darkest blight, Eradicate the evil that festers within, And let virtue in Christ once more begin. ©RowanMorgan Follow @5GMemefare on X

A cyberpunk odyssey of Cold War lies and modern surveillance: Digital Haze 🎶 In Cold War’s shade, their dossiers burned red, For Jane, the scribe, and Paul, who dreamed, their names with lies were bled. Wiretaps stole their whispered dreams, in rooms where shadows creep, With scarlet vials, they drugged their minds, their souls in chains to keep. From typewriters to data seas, managed, cold reality, A haze of lies, unseen binds, caged in totality. Digital haze, from whispers to the screen, A billion eyes track far and wide, in a world no longer seen. Hypnotized, gaslit, blind, they wander through the dream, Fading in the code, souls drift in the stream. Now servers hum in neon lairs, their code a crimson veil, With voices trapped in digital cells, where truth and freedom fail. They scroll through screens with hollow eyes, enthralled by tailored lies, Their thoughts dissolve in sterile dreams, beneath watchful skies. From sighs to algorithms, a web entwines their soul, A haze of fear, their will to steer, consigned to play a role. Digital haze, from whispers to the screen, A billion eyes track far and wide, in a world no longer seen. Hypnotized, gaslit, blind, they wander through the dream, Fading in the code, souls drift in the stream. In collective glaze, they lose their names, a trance of fear and lies, Their minds reshaped by coded doubts, where truth in silence dies. In Big Brother’s grip, with wicked code, nudged, goaded, primed, Strangers to themselves, they roam, adrift, hearts unaligned. Digital haze, from whispers to the screen, A billion eyes track far and wide, in a world no longer seen. Hypnotized, gaslit, blind, they wander through the dream, Fading in the code, souls drift in the stream. She sees the haze, its weight remains, her spirit faint and torn, In sterile lies, derangement reigns, in truth life is reborn. ©RowanMorgan Follow @5GMemefare on X

Rust and Red 🎵 Born in a mill town, smokestacks tall, Daddy’s hands worked steel, he gave his all. They signed their deals, borders fell away, Jobs left for cheap lands, left ours to decay. Factory’s a ghost, just weeds and rust, Globalist promises ground into dust. Hometown’s a shadow, dreams gone dead, They bled us dry, left rust and red. Rust and red, lost in the night, They stole our land, put out the light. From factory gates to the city’s end, Built a hellscape where the free men bend. John mined coal, till they shut the vein, Green laws from afar brought nothin’ but pain. China’s smokestacks burn, while we pay the cost, Our future’s sold, our hope’s been lost. Strangers flood the streets, rents climb too high, Schools are packed, and the old folks sigh. They call it progress, but it’s a lie, Workin’ man’s broke, watchin’ his town die. Rust and red, lost in the night, They stole our land, put out the light. From factory gates to the city’s end, Built a hellscape where the free men bend. UN’s got plans, IMF pulls strings, Elites in suits decide what tomorrow brings. Fentanyl flows, cartels run free, They call it “global,” but it’s chains on you and me. Emily’s gone, needle took her soul, Globalist dreams left a gaping hole. Flags don’t fly for us, just summits far, They want our voice, our guns, our stars. I stand where my world used to be, A ghost town now, no hope to see. They talk of unity, but it’s control they spread, Buryin’ us deep in rust and red. Rust and red, lost in the night, They stole our land, put out the light. From factory gates to the city’s end, Built a hellscape where the free men bend. They can ruin our homes, but they can’t kill the spark, Rust and red burns deep in our hearts. ©RowanMorgan Follow @5GMemefare on X ❤️

Battlefields of Belief 🎵 In the theater of conflict, where steel once clashed, Now ideologies duel, with words, thoughts, a flash. A storm sweeps the world, not with a cannons’ roar, But with minds eroded, forevermore. Like a virus, it spreads through airwaves in whispers, Rewriting histories, culture’s DNA blisters. Narratives paint tales, oppression, liberation, Darkness and light, each side’s aspiration. In battlefields of belief, ideas are weapon and shield, The mind’s vast domain is truth’s battlefield. Not bullets but books, not bombs but broadcasts, Ideological warriors, in this war, the mind is cast. Consciousness contested, every thought a fight, Facts like troops, opinions shape the light. Education, propaganda, entertainment invade, To change, conquer, in this war, minds are unmade. Casualties are beliefs, identities lost, Societies fracture, schisms at great cost. Generals in academia, politics, influence, Strategize in think tanks, social media, reticence. In battlefields of belief, ideas are weapon and shield, The mind’s vast domain is truth’s battlefield. Not bullets but books, not bombs but broadcasts, Ideological warriors, in this war, the mind is cast. A marathon of the mind, belief outlasts, Decades, centuries, the zeitgeist shifts, at last. Destruction and creation, a double-edged sword, Cuts chains or unity, truth’s reward. Arm with understanding, not dogmatism’s weight, Debate, not ignorance, for humanity’s fate. Decided not by armies, but by thought’s clarity, In this age of warfare, our legacy. In battlefields of belief, ideas are weapon and shield, The mind’s vast domain is truth’s battlefield. Not bullets but books, not bombs but broadcasts, Ideological warriors, in this war, the mind is cast. In the storm’s silence, new ideals may rise, From old thoughts’ ashes, under clear skies. No kings, no lords, just a thought's resolve, Battlefields of belief, where the future evolves. ©RowanMorgan @5GMemefare

No Kings, (But Leftist Lords) 🎵 Oh, hear the cry, "Trump’s a fascist, oh my!" While they lock us down, no questions, no why. Mandatory shots, muzzles on our face, Citizen lockdowns, they call it "safe space." Restrict our rights, censor what we say, Steal elections, then lock dissent away. Jail the protesters, arrest the opposition, Remove them from ballots, it’s their mission. No kings, but leftist lords of control, Authoritarian with a heart of fools gold. They scream "dictator" while they rule the roost, No kings, but lords, and we’re not amused. Assassinate leaders, coup the primary, Replace with puppets, oh, what a party! Carbon passports, restrict where we go, Prosecute memes, it’s the new status quo. Eighty percent cheer for price controls, Socialist dreams, inflation they stole. Digital dungeons, warrantless searches, Remove rights, they say it’s for our purposes. No kings, but leftist lords of control, Authoritarian with a heart of fools gold. They scream "dictator" while they rule the roost, No kings, but lords, and we’re not amused. Organize riots, plant agitators there, Media at the ready, mocking despair. Pray for deaths on camera, provoke a fight, Call in rogue judges, declare wrong as right. Idolize murderers, gangs they adore, Hate America, hate Americans even more. No kings, they say, but leftist lords reign, Authoritarianism, just a different name. But no kings, they chant, as they tighten the noose, Doublethink reigns, hypocrisy’s the truth. Newspeak’s their tongue, freedom’s a lie, Leftist lords rule, but the people rise. No kings, but leftist lords of control, Authoritarian with a heart of fools gold. They scream "dictator" while they rule the roost, No kings, but lords, and we’re not amused. No kings, but lords, oh what a show, Authoritarianism with a progressive glow. But we, the people, won’t play their game, No kings, no lords, light Liberty's flame. ©Rowan Morgan @5GMemefare

Enjoy a film-noir detective adventure as our hero detectives investigate CIA media influence and manipulation! 🎸🔎🎶🔥 Operation Dark Bird 🎵 In the depths of Cold War's silent chill, a dark bird took its flight, Operation Mockingbird soars like Icarus in the night. A CIA scheme, where journos were swayed, To shape the news, to guide the views, like a blade. The early '50s saw its birth, a time of fear and strife, When truth was molded, stories told, to counter Soviet life. The Church Committee brought to light, in '75's exposé, How news was sculpted, views were molded, an astonishing array. Operation Dark Bird, a shadow on the air, From mid-century to present day, life's a managed affair. With tech and tunes, New Media questions why, Operation Dark Bird, oh, don’t let it fly. From the pens of leading scribes, to the jaws of broadcast news, Came tales aligned with CIA unseen, manipulative muse. With foreign correspondents, too, their ties were deeply set, A network of intelligence, where news and secrets met. Front organizations, funded well, spread propaganda wide, Cultural groups, magazines too, with truth and lies allied. In Hollywood, the CIA touch has been known to roam, Shaping scripts, advising plots, in films and shows we know. Operation Dark Bird, a shadow on the air, From mid-century to present day, life's a managed affair. With tech and tunes, New Media questions why, Operation Dark Bird, oh, don’t let it fly. The names of those involved were known, yet many stayed concealed, A testament to how deeply this operation was heeled. And though reforms have come and gone, the echoes still resound, Of how intelligence might mingle with what's news or what's profound. In an age where information flows like rivers to the sea, The question lingers, unaddressed, of what we cannot see. A cautionary tale it stands, of truth's manipulation, A reminder in our modern world of media's strange creation. Operation Dark Bird, a shadow on the air, From mid-century to present day, life's a managed affair. With tech and tunes, New Media questions why, Operation Dark Bird, oh, don’t let it fly. A reminder in our modern world of media's strange creation. Lyrics by RowanMorgan Song generated with Suno Art generated with Midjourney & Animated with Kling ©RowanMorgan

Take a shadow ride through a cyberpunk dreampop cityscape and hear “A Tale of Psyops” through the ages. 🎶 A Tale of Psyops 🎶 Under the gaze of Big Brother's watchful eye, history is rewritten, reality curated. The art of psychological warfare has evolved throughout the ages. In times long past, beneath the harsh light of the sun, Psychological operations have spun, Planting seeds of doubt, to divide and to strain, With mental whips and chains, binding thought's domain. From ancient shadows to digital lies, The art of control never dies. It shapes our world, our fears, our very trust, In Big Brother's realm, what's true is corrupt. From the ancient scrolls where Sun Tzu penned deception's art, To where Alexander wove myths to bind the heart, The Greeks at Troy taught us well with their deceptive steed, How betrayal and misinformation could fulfill the conqueror's need. Through revolutions, where the cries for liberty were heard, Psyops fanned the flames, with pamphlets hurled, Igniting rebellion, shaping the masses' will, Crafting the narrative, controlling with skill. From ancient shadows to digital lies, The art of control never dies. It shapes our world, our fears, our very trust, In Big Brother's realm, what's true is corrupt. In Rome's vast empire, coins bore propaganda's face, To forge a common myth, in every conquered place. Napoleon's symbols and tales of grandeur spread, To manipulate, to control, with myths as his bread. In medieval times, spies and bards whispered tales of doom or might, Swaying kings and knights with stories of the night. They crafted loyalty or stirred the fires of revolt, Shaping the power's game with whispers like a bolt. From ancient shadows to digital lies, The art of control never dies. It shapes our world, our fears, our very trust, In Big Brother's realm, what's true is corrupt. Thus, through the annals of our wars, this silent fight has grown, A history of psyops, where truth and lie are sown. Teaching us to question all, to seek what's real or feigned, In the battlefield of minds, where sanity is strained. From ancient shadows to digital lies, The art of control never dies. It shapes our world, our fears, our very trust, In Big Brother's realm, what's true is corrupt. Lyrics by RowanMorgan @5GMemefare, art generated with Midjourney and animated with Kling. Song generated with Suno

"Peddling Pardons" is a a folk-punk country-rap mashup that satirizes political corruption, focusing on the Biden administration’s pardon of Hunter Biden. 🎶 Peddling Pardons 🎶 From the heart of the capital, where swamp creatures hold sway, Comes a tale of pardons, a nepo-political play. Dear sleepy old Joe, with feigned moral nobility, Made a promise to the nation of equal accountability. He said, with a grin, with the smugness of saints, "I'll not pardon my son, for that's where honor ain't!" But lo and behold, when the time came to act, He pardoned the lad for future deeds and past! No one’s above the law! They like to exclaim, Except Hunter and Co. who dodge all the blame, For crimes known and unknown, from tax to gun play, A pardon so vast, with no justice for prey! (Oh, what a play!) From January ‘14, just before Maidan in February, To now, for crimes known and those not yet in memory. The laptop from hell showed the plot with gross flair, A sweeping decree brushed it clean, like a witch's broom through the air. Now, this wasn't just any old pardon, you see, It covered a span where the truth could still be. For Hunter, with Burisma, in Ukraine there's no penalty, As clandestine corruption is a statecraftian specialty. No one’s above the law! They like to exclaim, Except Hunter and Co. who dodge all the blame, For crimes known and unknown, from tax to gun play, A pardon so vast, with no justice for prey! Oh, what a play! But wait, there’s a twist, a labyrinthine plot, This act tied the noose around what was not. For now, with no Fifth to protect or to hide, We’ll expose these dark deeds to share far and wide. Ukraine, oh Ukraine, where the money did flow, Rivers of glittering gold, but where did it go? With Hunter on boards and Joe in the fray, Pelosi's kin on the take, Romney's brood too, so they say. Joe's trips to Kyiv, threats of aid he withheld, To oust prosecutor Shokin, that loose end was expelled. Now the tax dollars fly, in billions unaccounted for, To Ukrainian oligarchs and Washington's powerful. No one’s above the law! They like to exclaim, Except Hunter and Co. who dodge all the blame, For crimes known and unknown, from tax to gun play, A pardon so vast, with no justice for prey! Oh, what a play! Thus ends our saga, with questions galore, Of the Big Guy, his son, and the war we abhor. A story of power, greed, and the State, With a pardon that opens Pandora's gate. Lyrics by RowanMorgan, music generated with Suno, art generated with MidJourney and animated with Kling.

"Dear Democrats" is a fiery sing-along protest anthem calling out Leftist policies for sowing division and breaking the nation’s heart, urging change with gritty female vocals, raw acoustic guitars and mandolin. 🎸✊