| Hear you sold your friend
|
| Got a good price at the local store
|
| You know he could’ve turned you in
|
| Could have been you on the concrete floor
|
| Jefferson roll over and tell ol' Stalin the news
|
| They got 'em looked up in the castroland
|
| Redefining abuse in shades of grey
|
| Torture advocate
|
| Got his dick up in a chicken hawk
|
| Life is what he’ll get
|
| War president is a criminal
|
| Still the years they go by
|
| No charge of trial date
|
| You’re accused of whatever you confess to
|
| Until then you won’t see the light of day
|
| There must be another way
|
| There must be another way
|
| The weathervanes are charging down the hill
|
| In some quixotic Calvary
|
| And the war machine is shaking in its sleep
|
| And the homesick ghost of the Geronimo
|
| I fear is taking all the absinthe
|
| There must be another way
|
| Since Geneva’s nearly drowned
|
| Since the tinsmith was gagged and bound
|
| Since the rich boys got away
|
| Two shovels and a skull of the widower brave
|
| Another indefinite detention
|
| Another tradition saved
|
| All hail the line of crooked white chiefs
|
| Whose father stole the bones from an Indian grave
|
| There must be another way
|
| There must be another way
|
| There must be another
|
| Hey Geronimo, hey Guantanamo
|
| Hey Geronimo, hey Guantanamo
|
| Hey Geronimo, hey Guantanamo
|
| Hey Geronimo, hey Guantanamo |