| Chopping lines in international sand
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| Feeding blood junkie habits of the elephant man
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| Quench his thirst with black water rising
|
| Executive outcomes on a burning horizon
|
| Yeah motherfucker, let’s take a ride
|
| We’re rolling Route Irish, someone has got to die
|
| Trick or treat, it’s IEDs
|
| So roll the dice as we leave
|
| Cause it’s eight miles of pure luck
|
| With more bang for Sam’s buck
|
| Guaran-fucking-teed, someone will bleed
|
| Privatize to conceal all the lies
|
| Big business is booming like it’s the Fourth of July
|
| No need for all the formalities
|
| Jump the kangaroo courts
|
| And plant the lynching trees
|
| Yeah motherfucker, let’s take a ride
|
| Running red lights in a green zone
|
| Someone has got to die
|
| Hidden aegis, nothing here to see
|
| So load the dice for me please
|
| And let’s snort the bottom line
|
| Crude cashed into refined
|
| Guaran-fucking-teed, just sign the deed
|
| Guaran-fucking-teed, someone will bleed
|
| Someone has got to die
|
| Ours is not to reason why
|
| Ours is but to do if the pay rate’s right
|
| Black liquid assets, fuck the Mujahideen
|
| Paint their picket fences red with the American dream
|
| Lay the heavy hammer down, get the job done right
|
| Jacked up and clocked in into a fire fight
|
| Covert reactions and you never saw me
|
| A glass parking lot in the American dream
|
| They all die
|
| Fucking murder
|
| Guaran-fucking-teed, someone will bleed
|
| Guaran-fucking-teed
|
| Lay the heavy hammer down, get the job done right
|
| Jacked up and clocked in into a fire fight
|
| Covert reactions and you never saw me
|
| A glass parking lot in the American dream |