"Tradition means giving a vote to most obscure of all classes, our ancestors. It is the democracy of the dead. Tradition refuses to submit to the small and arrogant oligarchy of those who merely happen to be walking about. All democrats object to men being disqualified by the accident of birth; tradition objects to their being disqualified by the accident of death. Democracy tells us not to neglect a good man’s opinion, even if he is our groom; tradition asks us not to neglect a good man’s opinion, even if he is our father."
GK Chesterton
Frågor till far (Questions for father) by Anna Änglavinge
Do you remember the time that I myself have never seen When the people were happy, when the people were one So tell me now, dad, how do you feel today When you sit in the slag of what's left? When you were growing up, tell me what it was like Was a girl something that was freely given to? Did you walk down the street and listen a little Without hearing a word you understood? Have you ever had to walk home alone? Since you were robbed and beaten by strange men?
Tell me how could you let that happen? You close your eyes to what a blind man could see Does it feel good, dear father? Are you proud are you happy? And where will you stand in our battle of today?
Most of you were as stupid as few But some of you were even worse They saw it as serious and not as play They loved to hate the people they betrayed Now they call the resistance hate, incitement and shock But outside, the gangs are now hunting in packs And they probably thank you and they laugh and smile To the stupidity and cowardice that distinguished you But you should have woken up, you should have understood You should have seen the seriousness, should have stopped
Tell me how could you let that happen? You close your eyes to what a blind man could see Does it feel good, dear father? Are you proud are you happy? And where will you stand in our battle of today?
Did you want to give birth to a whole generation Of multicultural and rootless couples? But a reality stood against your plans Where everything that was good became a stinking mess Now we are forced to shoulder the responsibility you have transferred Your society is rotting, we are building a new one
Minns du den tid som jag själv aldrig sett Då folket var lyckligt, då folket var ett Så säg mig nu, pappa, hur känns det idag När du sitter i slagget av det som finns kvar? När du växte upp, säg mig hur var det då Var en flicka någonting som man fritt gav sig på? Gick du på gatan och lyssnade smått Utan att höra ett ord du förstått? Var du nånsin tvungen att ensam gå hem Sen du rånats och slagits av främmande män?
Säg mig hur kunde ni låta det ske? Ni blunda' för det som en blind kunnat se Känns det bra, käre far? Är du stolt är du glad? Och var kommer du stå i vår strid av idag?
De flesta utav er var dumma som få Men några utav er var värre ändå De såg det som allvar och inte som lek De älskade att hata det folk som de svek Nu kallar de motståndet hat, hets och skrock Men utanför jagar nu gängen i flock Och de tackar nog er och de skrattar och ler Åt den dumhet och feghet som utmärkte er Men ni borde ha vaknat, ni borde förstått Ni borde sett allvaret, borde satt stopp
Säg mig hur kunde ni låta det ske? Ni blunda' för det som en blind kunnat se Känns det bra, käre far? Är du stolt är du glad? Och var kommer du stå i vår strid av idag?
Ville ni föda en hel generation Av mångkulturella och rotlösa hjon? Men mot era planer stod en verklighet Där allt som var bra blev en stinkande smet Nu tvingas vi axla det ansvar ni flytt Ert samhälle ruttnar, vi bygger ett nytt
