Cardboard Suitcase from ZOOT SUIT by JUDGE SMITH

CARDBOARD SUITCASE

He’s got a cardboard suitcase, and he’s filling it up,
And a plastic rucksack, from the last World Cup.
He had to sell his moped, just to bribe the man,
But he got his visa, and he got a plan;
He’s gonna get out of Whogivesadamnistan.

He’s got a scrap of paper with a Bristol address.
It’s his second cousin, well, more or less.
He’s got a one-time ticket on the Eurobus.
He hasn’t told his Mother ‘cause she’d make a fuss,
But he doesn’t see why he shouldn’t be one of us.

Just like the Romans and the Saxons
And the Vikings and the Jews,
They all shot their load
In my genetic code.
I expect it’s the same with you.

He isn’t a crazy, and he won’t go berserk.
He don’t want a handout, he’s not afraid of work.
And he thinks we’ll like him, from what he’s read.
Maybe find some friends here, maybe find a bed,
And no more soldiers hitting him round the head.

But there’s a situation at his cousin’s place,
‘Cause the Immigration are on his case.
No time for integration, that’s a lifetime career,
And assimilation takes a hundred years,
So for now he thinks he’ll quietly disappear.

Like the Normans and the Lollards,
Just like the Huguenots,
They all had their way
With my DNA,
That’s the way that a nation grows.

Like a cardboard suitcase, when you’re filling it up.
Like a cardboard suitcase, you gotta fill the thing up.
I’m just a cardboard suitcase, they all filled the thing up.
We’re just a cardboard suitcase, you never fill the thing up.

• Alternative
• accoustic
• narrative rock
• neo-classical-rock
• songs
• Glastonbury