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about

It was around the 2004 presidential election, and I was reading an edition of Newsweek, trying to get through a long, tedious article chronicling the legacy, pedigree, inner sanctum, frat boy chicanery and bloviating inane sophomoric cruelty required for membership in the ultra exclusive, notoriously boorish ‘Skull & Bones’ Club, of which George W. Bush and John Kerry were members.

I can’t hide my disdain for the kinds of people who pledge themselves to the ends of this privileged class, especially because what often benefits the wealthy usually comes at the expense of the rest of us. Saying this, I know the apologists for wealth will call me a communist or socialist at best, but the evidence abounds that aristocracy and wealth have exploited and bludgeoned the world and I’ll stand by history as witness to this. With Bush Junior, it’s the frat boy lunacy that informs the swagger that so seduced the millions who put this fake cowboy into power.

“The Bonesmen” is a line-for-line encapsulation of that article and of the darker side of Yale’s boys club for men who prefer to stick it to all of us in the name of sport and power.

lyrics

The Bonesmen

All jaded schoolboys, sarcasm and lip

If not for their swagger, they’d shoot from the hip
These weekend warriors, lukewarm and dirt-cheap
If you look a bit closer, they’ll lie through their teeth.

Tired japes and bad jokes, pass the gin if you please

You can take aim at anything when you’re shooting the breeze
And no bomber jacket, no crest can conceal

The brand from the cigarette that burns through your sleeve.

The Bonesmen doth take and the Bonesmen doth give
If you give them what they want they may let you live
They may let you dine and then bring you back home
And if you’re lucky...they won’t break your bones.

The Bonesmen cometh, they’re dug in the dirt

But none of them will fall for the Palace Alert

They’ll lie like dead bugs at the foot of the bar

‘Cause some school-kid threadbare volunteers for the job.
He’ll fight for the Bonesmen; she’ll smash in some skulls
Get a nickname, earn medals, and get a job at the mall

He has plenty of nads and now so does she

Raise a glass to the Bonesmen who are shooting the breeze.

The Bonesmen doth take and the Bonesmen doth give
If you give them what they want they may let you live
They may let you dance and then bring you back home
And if you’re lucky they won’t sell your bones.

If I could do it all over, I’d join in the club

Not a brother in arms, but a flub a dub dub

Pile my friends in a phone booth and then call a cab
Then zig-zag the country in search of my dad.
Raise a glass to the Bonesmen; oh it’s great to be free
Let’s drink to the Bonesmen and their legacy

Let us pray when the time comes for them to repent
If God is a Bonesman they’ll be heaven sent.

The Bonesmen doth take and the bonesmen doth give
If you give them what they want the may let you live
They may let you dine and then bring you back home
And if you’re lucky they won’t give you the bone.

credits

from Trepanning, track released January 1, 2008

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Edward Morneau Salem, Massachusetts

Edward Morneau has been a musician and songwriter most of his life. His focus on multiple genres and interest on sound collage experimentation makes his music hard to classify. His muses range from Beatles, Brian Wilson, Randy Newman, XTC, Kinks, Iris DeMent to Mahler, Shostakovich, Penderecki & Zappa. His background as an English & Film teacher gives humor and striking imagery to his songs. ... more

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