It's the War for Ecopendence... Savannah
It's the War for Ecopendence... Savannah
Do you really want the whales to die now? Free Willy!
Do you really want the whales to die now? Free Willy!
The world is like a giant storehouse.
If you empty it you must restock.
The world is like a giant warehouse.
It's the only storehouse on the block.
Do you really want to live in a greenhouse? Build ozone.
Do you really want to live in a greenhouse? Mo' ozone.
Does that seagull really need a necklace? Snip plastic.
Does that seagull really need a necklace? Snip plastic.
The world is like a giant storehouse.
If you empty it you must restock.
The world is like a giant warehouse.
It's the only storehouse on the block.
You may be strong but that's a lie.
'Cause you can't look the delta...
Look it in the eye!
Do you really need another thneed now? The Lorax.
Do you really need another thneed now? The Lorax.
Do you really need a snakeskin blouse now? Stop poachers!
Do you really need a snakeskin blouse now? STOP POACHING!
Willow: Hi, I'm Willow from Savannah, and I'm here tonight to tell you that the world is at war. It's not a war about death, but a war about life! It's my war and your and your war, but not just my war and your war, but his war and her war and everybody's war! Sure, they'll tell you they won't build a toxic waste dump on an Indian reservation, but they will, if it means more money! Do you hear the people sing Do you hear the fishes scream We must come together and fight THE WAR FOR ECOPENDENCE!
It's the War for Ecopendence... Savannah!
It's the War for Ecopendence... Savannah!
It's the War for Ecopendence... Savannah!
It's the War for Ecopendence... Savannah!
And in the end...
We will win the race
'Cause we are the human race.
Jeremy Dubin - co-author, vocals
Jon Greenlee - lead guitar, bass
Maury Loeb - co-author, vocals
Tom Sebanc - drums
Mitch Rotter - co-author
Copyright 1993 Zach London
From "Ground Beef"
Hey kid, take a long hard look at your folks,
They don't understand your clothes, or get your jokes.
They've got stupid wooden panels on the sides of their cars
And they make us cut our hair and our electric guitars, oh yeah!
It should be obvious by now
If we're gonna save rock and roll
I'm the only hope you've got
We've gotta nationalize the groove
Whether your mom and dad approve or not.
So follow me to the United States of Rock and Roll
Where rockin' wears the crown!
For beuatiful, for spacious skies,
For amber waves of party down!
Tonight we're going to shake the world
From every mountain high,
The guitar spangled banner we will cry...
And rock and roll will never die!
Hey kid, you say the world's not ready to jam,
Well we're the young generation and we don't give a damn!
When the Angel of Rock, he finally comes
He'll be descendin' down from heaven on a chariot of drums, oh yeah.
It should be obvious by now
If we're gonna save rock and roll
I'm the only hope you've got
It's just The Man tryin' to push us down
And stifle independent thought
Say can you see by the United States of Rock and Roll
Where rockin' wears the crown!
For beuatiful, for spacious skies,
For amber waves of party down!
Tonight we're going to shake the world
From every mountain high,
The guitar spangled banner we will cry...
And rock and roll will never die!
When in the chords of human events
We've got to improvise for the common defense!
So tell your boss every Betsy Ross needs her John Hancock.
Every drum needs its fill
Every boy needs his quill
To sign the Decleration of...
Exclamation of...
Amplification of...
Declaration of Rock, yeah!
Remove your hat for the United States of Rock and Roll
Where rockin' wears the crown!
For beuatiful, for spacious skies,
For amber waves of party down!
Tonight we're going to shake the world
From every mountain high,
The guitar spangled banner we will cry...
(Why)
'Cause rock and roll will never die!
(Jon Greenlee - drums, bass, lead guitar)
Copyright 1999 Zach London
From "Black Bean"
Abigail Potts was the mason's daughter
Such a fair maid as I e'er did see
Happy was the day that
I asked her Da for her sweet young hand for to marry me
Then one day come a bearded Spaniard
Hair like strands of twisted peat
Vile was the day when his horse fell a-ailing
Right in the middle of the county seat
His fingers clad in the courtier's signet
His back was broad and his face was scarred
Cold was the day when found my Abby
Gathering heather in the old church yard
Now some men die for freedom
And some men die for love
And some men die
By the glass of rye
Or the dice in the matron's glove
And some men die from fevers
And some men die from thirst
But when I'm laid down
In the dark cold ground
It will be from the Spaniard
From the Spaniard's curse
Now the Spaniard knew not a trace of the Queen's tongue
His speech was strange and his language slurred
But the hundred crowns that he gave the mason
Spoke much louder than the Queen's own word
Now the mason knew I'm a poor thatcher
My love is strong but a throne it's not
I'm a meager match for a Spanish lord
I tend to my thatch and that's my lot
My heart was lower than the devil's hollow
When the Moor I saw with my true love's hand
Boarding on a ship for to take my Abby
Over many seas to the foreign land
Now some men die for freedom
And some men die for love
And some men die
By the glass of rye
Or the dice in the matron's glove
And some men die from fevers
And some men die from thirst
But when I'm laid down
In the dark cold ground
It will be from the Spaniard
From the Spaniard's curse
In the galleon's bilge was a golden coffer
Which held all the jewels that the Moor possessed
Abby in the night threw it o'er the bow
To the bottom of the sea went the Spaniard's chest
Hung from the prow she cry to the Spaniard
Now feel the pain of a true love lost
As he sunk to his knees and he cursed my name
She plunged to the waves all tempest-tossed
Poverty now was the Spaniard's scepter
And Abigail down with Davy Jones
And I, many years as a woeful thatcher
Cursed from my ears to my poor man's bones
Now some men die for freedom
And some men die for love
And some men die
By the glass of rye
Or the dice in the matron's glove
And some men die from fevers
And some men die from thirst
But when I'm laid down
In the dark cold ground
It will be from the Spaniard
From the Spaniard's curse
(Dan Avstreih - bass)
Copyright 2002 Zach London
(David Fernandes - vocals, drums, lead guitar
Lori Newkirk - vocals)
Music and lyrics by Bob Dorough
Recording copyright 1994 Zach London
