Song picture
Broken Machine
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It's a Bush World. We just live in it...
pop rock unsigned bush catchy radio album political brian solo multi thief popular george bush taylor brian taylor hubtheband brian cameron taylor
Artist picture
Brian Cameron Taylor thief aggressive mellow alternative pop rock Comscratch
Brian Cameron Taylor is a multi-instrumentalist singer/songwriter from Vernon BC Canada. He writes original pop/rock songs with an emphasis on melody and mood to create an ageless appeal. He performs them with a personal, unique style and interesting instrumentation. He is currently working under the psuedonym thief. thief (as a whole) is more alternative than the solo efforts of Brian Taylor and includes the melodic vocal talents of Dawn Cunningham. soundclick.com/briantaylor is the only place to find all the material recorded by both thief and Brian Taylor. Download and share them, they are for YOU! Brian is also affiliated with the band HUB. Further info on Hub is available at: www.myspace.com/hubtheband And further Hub material is available at: www.soundclick.com/hubtheband or just type "hubtheband" in your favourite search engine Please contact BCT for further information: hubtheband@shaw.ca
Song Info
Genre
Pop Pop Rock
Charts
Peak #255
Peak in subgenre #62
Author
Brian Taylor
Rights
2004 brian taylor
Uploaded
October 02, 2004
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.7 MB 128 kbps 0:00
Story behind the song
Anger at ignorance motivated this song. Michael Moores' F.911 crystalized my disgust.
Lyrics
Broken Machine – God knows what you do. And I know. But do they? When they’re seeing it too, they’ll say. All of the lies that were told didn’t go waste. So many left in the cold for you to buy your place. We can trust you to regulate the poll. You can muster no inaugural stroll. Roll the dole kids down a spider hole. To tap the soil and turn your black heart gold. Fix a broken machine. I know that’s too impossible for you. If you got all the green then you know that it’s true. In the classroom you saw your lucky break. Without being stopped by the law the plan was yours to take. Lives like paper getting blown around. You remember at that rustling sound. By the campfire you heard your Daddy say, “There’s so much more Son, if only for a way.”
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