BARD RECORDS

Tag: Lyrics

  • What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

    What Could Possibly Go Wrong?

    What could possibly go wrong?

    What could possibly go wrong?

    By RebelliousBard

    ARCHIVE COMMENTARY

    Originally published on the RebelliousBard’s YouTube channel.

    First published:

    02 August 2026

    Running time:

    3:45

    WHY THIS SONG EXISTS

    “What Could Possibly Go Wrong?” was written in the days after Andy Burnham became Prime Minister in July 2026. Watching a convicted fraudster return to high office, a minister previously embroiled in a tax scandal handed the housing brief, a defence secretary with no military background, and a new leader who arrived without a general election mandate, the absurdity was hard to ignore. The song is a bitter, sarcastic snapshot of that moment , a government assembled from the same old faces and the same old problems, asking the only question that seemed left to ask.

    Lyrics

    New government, same old circus…
    What could possibly go wrong?

    A convicted fraudster back in the big chair,
    Phone that wasn’t stolen, still climbing the stairs.
    A woman who underpaid her house tax with a smile,
    Now she’s housing secretary

    “Hold on, I’ve not finished yet.
    Stay a little while.”

    Defence minister with no boots on the ground,
    Prefers the rainbow hotpants to the khaki around.
    And a Prime Minister who got there with twenty thousand votes,
    Zero mandate, just a by-election and a few well-placed notes.

    They call it a fresh start, they call it a clean slate,
    While the country’s still bleeding under the same old weight.

    What could possibly go wrong?
    A fraudster, a tax dodger, a fashion parade in the M.o.D throng.
    A PM with no election, just a coronation song,
    What could possibly go wrong?
    The ship’s already listing, the crew’s a joke,
    What could possibly go wrong… while the country goes broke?

    They put the foxes back in charge of the hen house,
    Same faces, different titles, same old louse.
    Experience optional, integrity on the shelf,
    Just keep smiling for the cameras and blame someone else.
    The mandate’s missing, the trust is long gone,
    But the photo ops keep rolling, the circus goes on.

    What could possibly go wrong?…

    They say it’s change, they say it’s renewal,
    But it’s the same old faces in a brand new costume.
    A government built on thin ice and thin air,
    What could possibly go wrong… while nobody cares?

    What could possibly go wrong?
    A fraudster, a tax dodger, a fashion parade in the M.o.D throng.
    A PM with no election, just a coronation song,
    What could possibly go wrong?
    The ship’s already listing, the crew’s a joke,
    What could possibly go wrong… while the country goes broke?

    What could possibly go wrong…

    Hold on, I’ve not finished yet.
    Stay a little while.

  • Buh-Bye Keir

    Buh-Bye Keir

    Buh-Bye Keir
    Buh-Bye Keir

    By RebelliousBard

    First published:

    26 June 2026

    Running time:

    3:50

    Lyrics

    Two Tier Keir, never here when it mattered most
    Captain Hindsight, always late to the post
    Sir Kid Starver, Free Gear Keir in your fancy suit
    Starmer the Farmer Harmer — what an absolute hoot
    Taxed the land, froze out the old, cut the fuel in the cold
    While the boats kept coming and the stories were sold

    Oh Keir Starmer… finally packing your bags
    Two years too late, but who’s counting?

    You smiled for the cameras, said change is here
    While the country fell apart year after year

    Buh bye Keir, don’t let the door hit your chin
    Two Tier Keir, finally packing it in
    Captain Hindsight with your free gear and spin
    The country’s breathing , now the mess begins
    Buh bye Keir, what a legacy of pain
    Destroyed the farmers, froze out the old again
    Two Tier Keir, never here when we needed you most
    Just another suit selling lies coast to coast

    You promised the world, delivered the knife
    Taxed the inheritance, ended rural life
    Pensioners freezing while the boats sailed in
    Media protected you through thick and thin
    Sir Kid Starver with your moral high ground
    Left kids in danger while the numbers compound
    Free Gear Keir taking whatever he can
    While the rest of us suffered under your plan

    Buh bye Keir, don’t let the door hit your chin

    Two years too late, you finally walked away
    Left the country broken, now you want praise
    But who comes next from this selection of nothing?
    More of the same, just different clothing
    The damage is done, the trust is gone
    We’re breathing again… but the fight’s just begun

    Buh bye Keir, don’t let the door hit your chin
    Two Tier Keir, finally packing it in
    Captain Hindsight with your free gear and spin
    The country’s breathing — now the mess begins
    Buh bye Keir, what a legacy of pain
    Destroyed the farmers, froze out the old again
    Two Tier Keir, never here when we needed you most
    Just another suit selling lies coast to coast

    Buh bye Keir
    Buh bye Keir
    What a legacy
    What comes next?

  • Who Killed Ann?

    Who Killed Ann?

    who killed Ann 1.1

    Who Killed Ann?

    By RebelliousBard

    ARCHIVE COMMENTARY

    Originally published on the RebelliousBard’s YouTube channel.

    First published:

    25 July 2026

    Running time:

    3:43

    WHY THIS SONG EXISTS

    This song was written in response to public confusion surrounding the reporting of the Ann Widdicombe murder investigation. As images circulated and details changed over time, many people questioned whether they were looking at the same individual or whether earlier reporting had been inaccurate.

    Lyrics

    Ladies and gentlemen… the plot thickens…
    And the face in the dock doesn’t match the pictures.

    Who killed Ann?
    The man in the dock looks nothing like the plan.
    Shaven head in court, longer hair on the tape,
    Drive times that don’t add up , what a state.
    Police said “this is him” with a straight face grin,
    Now he stands there looking like a different man.

    Is it the same man? Is it a double?
    Or just another chapter in the national muddle?

    Who killed Ann?
    Who killed Ann this time?
    The pictures don’t match, the story’s a crime.
    Who killed Ann?
    Who killed Ann today?
    The face in the dock looks a million miles away!

    Two-fifty miles in a handful of hours,
    Stick in his pocket and a trail of powers.
    Non-political one day, terrorist the next,
    Far-right arrests that leave the public perplexed.
    None of them charged, the story goes quiet,
    While we stare at the silence and the latest riot.

    Is it the same man? Is it a double?
    Or just another chapter in the national muddle?

    Who killed Ann?
    Who killed Ann this time?
    The pictures don’t match, the story’s a crime.
    Who killed Ann?
    Who killed Ann today?
    The face in the dock looks a million miles away!

    Columbo would have noticed, Morse would have scowled,
    The Sweeney would’ve kicked the door in and howled.
    But here we are again with the same old farce,
    A face that doesn’t match and a case falling apart.

    Who killed Ann?
    Who killed Ann this time?
    The pictures don’t match, the story’s a crime.
    Who killed Ann?
    Who killed Ann today?
    The face in the dock looks a million miles away!

    Who killed Ann…
    Who killed Ann…
    The face doesn’t match…
    The face doesn’t match…

  • Offended On Demand Lyrics

    Offended On Demand Lyrics

    Indi-Glo Blue - Offended on Demand

    Scrolling through my feed at 3 AM, another meltdown trending
    Someone said “policeman,” now the world is ending
    Karen’s in the comments, clutching pearls so tight
    “I’m triggered, I’m victimized, this isn’t polite!”

    They hunt for microaggressions like it’s big game
    Turn a dad joke into drama, scream “shame, shame, shame”
    Need their daily outrage fix just to feel alive
    Without a cause to cancel, how do they survive?

    I’m offended, I’m offended, hear me roar!
    Got my feelings weaponized, ready for war
    Every word’s a hate crime, every glance a sin
    If you’re not triggered yet, where do I begin?
    Offended on demand, it’s the new cool trend
    Virtue signal louder till the bitter end
    I’m offended, yeah I’m offended, clap for me now
    ‘Cause nothing says “I’m special” like a Twitter meltdown!

    Beard? Threatening. Brunch? Oppressive somehow
    Hot dog as a sandwich? That’s violence, wow
    Don’t touch me, don’t call me, don’t even breathe near
    My safe-space bubble’s got a fifty-foot sphere

    They love the victim card, it’s their favourite suit
    Play it like a fiddle while they tweet and salute
    If no one’s mad at them, they start the fight
    Offense is oxygen, they need it every night

    I’m offended, I’m offended, make it viral quick!
    Got my pitchfork ready for a grammar nit-pick
    Language evolves? Nah, that’s erasure, bro
    Call it fireman, watch the outrage flow
    Offended on demand, it’s a full-time gig
    Karen’s unite, let’s make the internet big
    I’m offended, yeah I’m offended, bow down low
    To the kings and queens of perpetual “no”!

    Hey snowflake, here’s a tissue for your tears
    World’s not your therapist, dry those fears
    Grow a spine or log off, pick one today
    ‘Cause real problems exist while you rage away…

    We’re offended, we’re offended, join the choir!
    Turn molehills to mountains, set the world on fire
    But deep down we know it’s just a sad charade
    Offended for likes in our outrage parade
    Offended on demand… (echo: “How dare you! How dare you!”)

    “Thanks for the engagement… you’re all so brave!”

  • Halfway Chapters Lyrics

    Halfway Chapters Lyrics

    Lisa Coles - Halfway Chapters
    1. Halfway Chapters

    I stand in front of the mirror tonight
    Pull out the old photos from the shelf
    Laugh at the plans that I once held tight
    Think how quietly some dreams left themselves

    Thirty-five and the clock keeps moving
    Half the chapters behind, half still to write
    Time to stop chasing what’s always proven
    Empty and start building something that’s right

    Halfway through, but I’m not done
    All the years I’ve lost, all the miles I’ve run
    I’ve got just as many ahead as behind
    Time to hold the truths I can find

    I remember nights I stayed up awake
    Sketching the futures that never came
    Some roads I chose, some I let break
    Some doors closed quietly without blame

    Thirty-five and the clock keeps moving
    Half the chapters behind, half still to write
    Time to stop chasing what’s always proven
    Empty and start building something that’s right

    Halfway through, but I’m not done
    All the years I’ve lost, all the miles I’ve run
    I’ve got just as many ahead as behind
    Time to hold the truths I can find

    I don’t need the applause or the fame
    Just the quiet proof that I played my game
    Every small choice, every late-night fight
    Shapes the half ahead I hold in sight

    Halfway through, but I’m not done
    All the years I’ve lost, all the miles I’ve run
    I’ve got just as many ahead as behind
    Time to hold the truths I can find

    2. Folded Letters

    I read your message again
    I don’t know if I should reply

    You say it like it’s simple
    Like nothing really changed
    I read it through twice
    Still don’t know what you mean

    I hold the phone in my hand
    Wait for something to land

    I can’t hold it in
    I can’t hold it in

    I start to type, then erase it
    Watch the words disappear
    There’s a way I could say it
    I just don’t make it clear

    I let the silence sit
    See what it does to me

    I can’t hold it in
    I can’t hold it in

    Say it now or leave it

    I can’t hold it in
    I can’t hold it in
    I can’t hold it in

    3. Just One Glass

    I pour a glass around 8:30
    Call it winding down
    It’s been a long day and I’m still switched on
    I tell myself it’s nothing
    Just a way to pause
    Nothing dramatic
    Just a little break

    I’ve done this before
    I’ll do it again

    Just one glass
    Just tonight
    Just to smooth the noise inside
    Just one glass
    Nothing more
    I’ve said that before

    Phone buzzes past midnight
    Old chats I can’t delete
    Scrolling slowly
    Let it run instead
    Alarm comes too early
    Head a little heavy
    Coffee too strong
    Promise I’ll skip it tomorrow
    I’ve done this before
    I’ll do it again

    Just one glass
    Just tonight
    Just to smooth the noise inside
    Just one glass
    Nothing more
    I’ve said that before

    I could stop
    I could walk away
    I just don’t want to

    Just one glass
    Just tonight
    Just to smooth the noise inside
    Just one glass
    Nothing more
    I’ve said that before

    4. Front Row Composure

    You take your seat like it’s nothing
    Smooth expression, well rehearsed
    Every gesture calibrated
    Say just enough, imply the worst
    You tilt your head when you’re listening
    Like you’re generous with space
    But you’re scanning for advantage
    While you’re smiling at my face

    We both understand the setting
    No one says it out loud
    You play polite perfection
    I don’t play to the crowd

    Front Front row composure
    Hands folded tight
    Measured exposure
    Everything tight
    No sudden movements
    No wasted breath
    You watch the reaction
    I watch what’s left

    You adjust the conversation
    Shift the focus when it suits
    Drop a detail like it’s nothing
    Keep the balance slightly loose
    You call it being careful
    I call it being known
    You don’t like loose endings
    You prefer them overthrown

    We don’t need confession
    We don’t need proof
    You manage perception
    I manage the truth

    Front row composure
    Hands folded tight
    Measured exposure
    Everything tight
    No sudden movements
    No wasted breath
    You watch the reaction
    I watch what’s left

    You lean in closer
    Lower your tone
    Ask if I noticed
    How much you’ve grown
    I say I’ve noticed
    That’s technically true
    Growth looks different
    Depending on who

    Front row composure
    Hands folded tight
    Measured exposure
    Everything tight
    No sudden movements
    No wasted breath
    You watch the reaction
    I watch what’s left

  • Interlude Three

    Interlude Three



    THE EPISTEM

    Once stability becomes routine,
    observation becomes maintenance.

    Interlude Three contains no new instruction and introduces no further adjustment. Instead, it serves as a routine verification that previously established conditions remain unchanged. The archive records the notice with the same detached precision as every document before it, suggesting that the programme has entered a phase where continued operation is considered entirely unremarkable.

    Interlude Three



    ► The Epistem • Interlude Three • Manual To Success
    INSTRUCTIONS

    Step six remains active
    Alignment conditions have been maintained
    No deviation detected
    Correction not required

    Step six remains active
    Alignment conditions have been maintained
    No deviation detected
    Correction not required

    Manual To Success The Epistem
  • PSA 2

    PSA 2



    THE EPISTEM

    The final report contains
    no further instruction.

    PSA 2 closes the Manual with a formal confirmation that the programme has reached its intended conclusion. Every stage is recorded as complete, all processes are declared self-sustaining and no further progression is considered necessary. As with every document preserved by the archive, the announcement is delivered without emotion, presenting completion as a routine administrative outcome rather than an event.

    PSA 2



    ► The Epistem • PSA 2 • Manual To Success
    INSTRUCTIONS

    System update
    All steps have been completed
    The Manual for Success has reached final state
    No further progression required
    All processes are now self-sustaining
    No errors detected
    End of sequence

    Manual To Success The Epistem
  • Catch Up 2

    Catch Up 2



    THE EPISTEM

    Every completed process
    eventually becomes a record.

    Catch Up 2 serves as the archive’s closing summary, restating the programme’s progression from entry to integration before quietly acknowledging that the distinction between participant and process no longer exists. Rather than concluding the Manual, the final document records its transition from an active programme into something that simply continues, leaving the archive to preserve what remains.

    Catch Up 2



    ► The Epistem • Catch Up 2 • Manual To Success
    INSTRUCTIONS

    This was the Manual for Success

    Step One initiated entry into the system
    Step Two increased output and pressure
    Step Three altered perception
    Step Four adjusted behaviour
    Step Five destabilised identity
    Step Six replaced and stabilised identity

    It was a system in steps
    It was a system in steps
    You moved through it

    Step Seven completed integration
    The process is no longer external
    It is now continuous

    There is no separation between user and system

    It was a system in steps
    It was a system in steps
    It continues through you

    The manual does not end

    Manual To Success The Epistem
  • Fellow Veteran

    Fellow Veteran



    REBELLIOUSBARD

    Some titles are earned through experience.
    They shouldn’t become campaign accessories.

    Fellow Veteran is an angry response to the casual use of military service as political currency. Drawing on RebelliousBard’s own years in uniform, the song contrasts the reverence afforded to the word “veteran” in public rhetoric with what it sees as the far less comfortable reality faced by former servicemen once the speeches, photographs and campaign appearances are over.

    Fellow Veteran



    ► RebelliousBard • Fellow Veteran • Please Sir, Can I have Some More?
    FOR THE RECORD

    Another day… another photo op
    Another “fellow veteran” in the spotlight

    They dilute the word till it don’t mean a thing
    Reserve weekend warrior suddenly one of the lads in the firing line
    Nine years I gave them, three in the Troubles up north
    Never once called myself a veteran going back and forth
    But now every weekend soldier gets the hero treatment
    While the uniform’s honour gets sold for cheap political rent

    They wear the title like a fancy costume pass
    While real service gets dragged through the mud and the grass

    Fellow veteran, my fucking arse
    Cheapening the word like it’s nothing but farce
    We gave real years, real blood, real nights
    While you lot turn service into soundbites
    Fellow veteran? Spare me the lie
    Some of us actually served… and some just learned how to cry

    Meanwhile real veterans sleep rough on the street
    While illegals get hotels with four-star sheets
    The government hunts down old soldiers for sins long ago
    Charging them for war crimes from decades ago
    But the new breed gets parades and a pat on the back
    While the ones who actually bled get thrown on the scrap

    Fellow veteran, my fucking arse

    I did nine years. Three in the Troubles, clear as day
    Never asked for medals or a pat on the back
    But watching this circus makes my stomach turn
    Cheapening the uniform just to chase a few more votes in return

    Fellow veteran, my fucking arse
    Wearing the title like a cheap costume pass
    We gave real years, real blood, real nights
    While you lot turn service into soundbites
    Fellow veteran? Spare me the lie
    Some of us actually served
    And some just learned how to cry

    Fellow veteran
    Fellow veteran
    Some of us actually served

    WHY THIS SONG EXISTS

    Fellow Veteran was written after a Reform UK campaign appearance involving former SAS soldier Ant Middleton and a local plumber who had served as a part-time reservist. When the reservist was presented as a “fellow veteran”, the phrase struck a particularly personal nerve. RebelliousBard had served nine years in the military, including three in Northern Ireland during the Troubles, and had never regarded that service as something to be casually turned into political currency. The incident became the starting point for a song about what the word “veteran” should mean, who gets to wear it, and the uncomfortable contrast between celebrating military service when it suits a campaign and the treatment some former servicemen receive once their usefulness as political imagery has passed.

    Please Sir, Can I Have Some More? RebelliousBard
  • Roots Run Deep

    Roots Run Deep



    REBELLIOUSBARD

    Britain wasn’t a blank page
    waiting for somebody to write on it.

    Roots Run Deep rejects the increasingly familiar description of Britain as little more than a succession of arrivals. Beneath the convenient slogans is an ancient native history, stretching through generations of people, places, names and ancestry that cannot simply be edited out of the national story. The song argues that recognising those roots should require neither apology nor permission, and that a country capable of celebrating every identity except its own has forgotten something fundamental about itself.

    Fellow Veteran



    ► RebelliousBard • Roots Run Deep • Please Sir, Can I have Some More?
    FOR THE RECORD

    They keep telling us Britain’s just a hotel on the shore
    A blank page for whoever washes up

    Built by migrants, they say with a knowing smile
    Romans, Saxons, waves across every mile
    But the land remembers every bone in the clay
    Ancient names carved in stone that refuse to fade away
    Celtic roots running centuries deep
    Now dismissed like a story we’re no longer allowed to keep

    Talking heads rewrite the tale so clean and neat
    While the foundations crumble beneath our feet

    Roots run deep, but they’re desperate to bury the past
    Celtic Britons were here long before the latest cast
    Not a blank canvas, not just another phase
    This island has memory they’re frantic to erase
    Roots run deep, in the blood, in the stone
    While they celebrate the new and mock our own
    This is home, not a footnote in their grand design
    Stand your ground… while there’s still time

    Cameron called it “great because” with polished ease
    Blair stitched a fabric without the original weave
    London’s mayor says it belongs to everyone now
    Funny how the natives are told to take a bow
    Praise every new arrival, scorn the ancient core
    Then act surprised when the cracks begin to show

    History becomes dangerous when the numbers climb high
    Memory labelled toxic in these modern times

    Roots run deep, no more rewriting the past
    Celtic Britons were here first, and that truth will last
    Not replaced, not ashamed, not a relic to discard
    This land has memory, and it’s weary, weary and scarred
    Roots run deep… hear the whisper in the stone
    Before the Britain we knew is completely overthrown

    Roots run deep… roots run deep
    This is home
    Don’t let it sleep
    History remembers

    WHY THIS SONG EXISTS

    Roots Run Deep was not written in response to one particular news story. It came from the continuing argument in Britain, and increasingly across Europe, over native identity, mass migration and who can claim a meaningful historical connection to the country they call home. RebelliousBard rejects the idea that centuries of migration make Britain a blank canvas with no native people or inheritance worth defending. The song was written because that history matters, and because treating attachment to it as something suspicious, outdated or shameful does not make it disappear.

    Please Sir, Can I Have Some More? RebelliousBard