Graphic novelist Alan Moore and artist David Lloyd dreamed up a surreal, grinning Guy Fawkes mask for 1982's "V for Vendetta," the story of a masked vigilante working to overthrow an oppressive regime. With the help of musician Joe Brown, Moore has debuted a protest song -- just in time for November 5th -- written specially for the group that adopted his Fawkes mask as a symbol of political resistance.
Your average psychopath, at least kills with a hammer or brick, and not with greed and incompetence," Moore sings in "The Decline of English Murder," a gloomy ballad he wrote for Occupation Records, the musical arm of Occupy London.
The song paints a bleak picture of modern-day Britons brought low by inequality and corporate greed. The music video features images of Occupy protesters sporting Vendetta masks and demonstrating across The City, London's Wall Street.
In a 2011 interview with The Guardian, Moore seemed happy to have his artistic output adopted by protesters:
I suppose when I was writing V for Vendetta I would in my secret heart of hearts have thought: wouldn't it be great if these ideas actually made an impact? So when you start to see that idle fantasy intrude on the regular world… It's peculiar. It feels like a character I created 30 years ago has somehow escaped the realm of fiction.
The song's debut also marks the same day that members of hacker group Anonymous plan to march on Parliament for a "Vendetta"-inspired masked protest (inspired by below film scene).
Here are the lyrics (via BleedingCool) :
She sorts out her hair in the washroom at Preston Services
Dries her hands under a notice that reads have you seen this child
And she nurses one tea for an hour in the cafeteria
Watching the truck drivers blind their fried eggs with the cutlery
And English Murder. It’s all over her face.
Just waiting until the right time the wrong light boy
There’ll be a photograph
With a bad 1970′s fringe and a look of uncertainty
Years later you’ll know the name but not where you know it from
And they’ve emptied the terraced row with compulsory purchases
Reasoning that they’d make more from the ground with the people gone
So he shuffles the half a mile to the nearest post office
When lads push into the queue he pretends he’s not noticed them
And English murder. It’s all over his face.
A low enough cold snap, a high enough gas bill
You’ll skim the epitaph
And you’ll possibly notice his name like somebodies you knew from school
There’ll be an off the peg verse where sad has been rhymed with dad
And the houses in which they’ve invested their City bonuses
Have increased the property prices and therefore the homelessness
And the scabby grey anti-climb paint and withdrawn amenities
In case socializing promotes anti-social behavior
And English murder. It’s all over the place.
The bunches of flowers in pedestrian precincts
Your average psychopath, at least kills with a hammer or brick
and not with greed and incompetence
And after two or three years maybe they’ll express remorse.