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A song about the death of biodiversity.
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John Ludi...Troubador of the Apocalypse.
John Ludi: Troubador of the Apocalypse. John Ludi is a TRULY independent Recording Artist, Writer, and Social Critic. He has long held to the (currently unfashionable) notion that music can change people's lives and broaden their minds. John Ludi functions outside of the major label music industry by choice! John writes, records, produces, manufactures, and distributes his music on a cottage industry level, thus he is not beholden to the wishes of the music industry and can say and play what he wants to (all of which makes him far more "dangerous" to the powers that be than any of the pre-packaged models of rebellion the music industry regularly spits out).
Song Info
Charts
#18,585 today Peak #81
#5,884 in subgenre Peak #26
Author
John Ludi
Rights
2004
Uploaded
April 14, 2005
Track Files
MP3
MP3 5.1 MB 128 kbps 0:00
Story behind the song
According to most reputable sources (i.e., those not directly subsidized by Industry...otherwise known as "amoral scumbag shills who would sell their souls for chump change if they actually HAD souls to sell") amongst the many nasty little tricks we are so eagerly playing upon the planet we call home is the vast diminishing of biodiversity, or as I cheerfully like to put it "the rending of the web". Now, despite my being a vegetarian and having SOME liberal notions, I am not exactly what you'd call a "treehugger". I am a pragmatist. And as a pragmatist I am appalled by how stupidly we have managed the upkeep of the only place we have to live. And as a realist/pragmatist I also realize (as should anyone who is not an idiot) that we are NOT separate from nature...we are part of it! And if we continue to over-consume and overpopulate, we are likely as not ALL GOING TO DIE! It's pretty simple: NO BIOSPHERE, NO HUMANITY.
Lyrics
Here we are watching everything unravel, all the wonders of life now fade before our eyes. Nature’s certainties now frail and sick and weary, all her unities now falter fail and die Grasping hands rend the web of things connected our feeding frenzy and our thirst for more and more The deserts we produce host the tombs of our grandchildren who will reap the bounty of the warnings we ignored. Implosion and erosion Contortion and corrosion. Debate and disavow and justify inaction as the storm gathers above our busy heads. Pretend the clouds are not looming on the horizon shut out the visions and the fleeting face of dread.
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