Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Artists in a Time of War, artist - DC the MIDI Alien. Album song East Coast Avengers present DC the MIDI Alien : Avengers Airwaves, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 14.02.2011
Record label: Brick
Song language: English
Artists in a Time of War |
We are artists in a time of war |
This ain’t a song, it’s a call to arms, bring 'em on, knives to firebombs |
Whatever your firearms |
I want a million man march, AR15s on shoulders |
All of my soldiers, power to the people you see |
Or I could bring my people to the powers |
Where I could just reach you at home, but I’ll surely not preach you alone |
I want free-thinking revolutionaries that refuse to bury their rights |
Due to every government oversight at night |
Y’all are glued to the tube, eating up the news like fast food |
Like every soldier killed is glad to |
Every single bill’s to tax you, every single bill’s just passed through |
Steady phone calls harass you, while the National Debt’s around fourteen figures |
But I figured ain’t nobody calling them pointing fingers |
I want my government to fear me, flag me |
Watch list, try and gag me |
V for Vendetta black bag me |
I intend to marry my right to bear arms |
A militia mentality, rally me and move on |
Behind enemy lines, with every line, I’m like Tiananmen |
Can’t state my sentiments and my contemporaries? |
They’re just temporarily dead weight |
Way beyond local PD, it’s a fed case |
To justify killing, you’re considered a head case |
You ply with villains and you’re living in dead space |
I mean blackball publicly your patriotism’s erased character defaced like stars |
at last calls |
As drunk straw witty one-liners that our city’s finest citizens |
Are eating fine dinners in |
Slipping in back doors and killing them slow |
For such a rich country we got little to show |
I don’t condole flying planes into two buildings but I understand kids shooting |
school children (why) |
Cause I reach that level myself, when everyone else start to look like the |
devil himself, it doesn’t help |
Everyday they betray foreigners as catalysts to coroners and killers |
Like every Muslim born is suicide bombing his village and raping and pillage |
and on 'til freedom is gone |
That sells stickers and T-shirts but kids back from war a year later you could |
stick 'em in deep earth |
I got a message for politicians, I’m polishing my weapons and mission to be |
abolishing their posh living |
Like shooting fish in a barrel, glistening |
Pistols carrying arm, like Marilyn, Christmas Caroling |
Gone are those days |
Y’all ain’t reap what you sow cause the last thing you’ll see is my muzzle |
flash glow |