Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Apocalypta, artist - The Herd.
Date of issue: 02.10.2005
Song language: English
Apocalypta |
The command came 'hold your fire' |
And if I ever meet that man I’ll ask him why |
We were put on standby while the scenario got dire. |
Peace keeper with no teeth, can enforce no peace, |
Just becomes an eye-witness to grief |
Number of times I wish to leave. |
Couldn’t believe that we were here, |
For nothing more then the lip service, |
Nothing more then the empires service, Trigger finger, oh so nervous. |
Number of times I almost let the bullets go, |
The footage shows, that they approached the check point |
With hands raised in civilian clothes. |
Vince did shoot and he went home |
Awaiting an inquest, who’s to know, |
If the punishment could be worse |
Than his own thoughts when he’s all alone. |
And I wish he could of been here, |
When we really needed a shooter. |
We stood by and watched as the town we protected, Was pillages raped and looted. |
We were ham-strung, |
The commands come from HQ, |
And blood on the hands was the last thing the they wanted to report, |
The politicians that they answered to. |
So what am I supposed to do? |
Why am I here? |
Dying of fear |
That the faces staring up at me will continue to appear. |
In the dreams that wake me up in fits of sweats, And all the counsellor has said |
Won’t let me forget about Szrebrenica yet. |
overnight trucks in convoy |
big red cross on the side and the back |
escorted by two junior officers |
on the off chance they’d be attacked |
on a private contract |
roads a gauntlet |
trouble none yet reported |
guards will get a little commission |
when we bribe the soldiers when we reach the border |
now he’s got medical supplies for a refugee camp |
humanitarian mission |
held up a week at customs |
took over a month to ship from Switzerland |
he knows nobody will listen |
even as the burials start increasing |
so he keeps the frustration under wraps |
he’s seen that it’s self-defeating |
and though he joined up to make a difference |
good intentions can turn out vicious |
as they helplessly provide aid |
to camps of disbanded militias |
they’ve got cachets of illegal arms |
hidden away in the countryside |
former colonial rulers ensure |
they get yet more clandestine supplies |
he’s seen aid workers broken down |
to a shell of their former selves |
'til they’re not so afraid of death 'cos |
they’ve already seen hell |
and the danger pay is good |
but every cent that he gets is earn’t |
and he’s alive but burning out |
driving through scorched earth |
and all in all it’s worth it isn’t it |
even just for the little victories? |
standing by as a witness |
to the dark rumblings of history |
We left home as heroes, |
with photo ops and press releases, |
and handshake from the minister, |
and a speech on freedom, |
shining beacons of democracy. |
The monitors of first free and fair elections, |
midwives to assist the birth of a distant fledgling nation. |
As we taxied out at Williamstown, |
you could smell the nerves in the Hercules, |
excitement and uncertainty, |
prestigious posting overseas. |
We deployed through the provinces, |
our project voter education, |
to dispel fears of retribution, |
with two local staff and a Thai policeman. |
The campaign worked and ten months later |
the ballot was held and turn out greater than expected, |
the result unknown, |
then the call came through on the satellite phone: |
«Projectiles thrown in some locations, |
mobs attacking polling stations», |
HQ called evacuation and ordered our withdrawal. |
We sheltered in the compound |
while militias torched the town, |
the glow of burning buildings as night fell |
had tensions running high. |
The flow of refugees braved razor wire |
for the protection of our presence. |
Automatic gun fire rang out, |
premeditated menace. |
And calls for back up to Canberra are met with silence and indecision. |
«Domestic intervention’s outside the mandate of this mission». |
And at dawn the order came, |
for all «essential personnel», |
at 0900 the choppers would come to fly us out of hell. |
Now how can I meet the eye, |
of this man that I’ve worked beside, |
and tell him that I’m free to leave today whilst he is sure to die. |
I wanna hide, don’t understand how these people can be abandoned, |
and I wonder, if the minister will be there to meet us when we land. |