| the soldier thought of his father as he held the loaded gun
|
| he thought of pride, courage, and tradition
|
| and as he emptied out his rifle he brought peace to fruition, holy
|
| with explosions we’ll be pious with explosions we’ll bring love
|
| our explosions come with blessings from above
|
| and we are twenty years behind we’ve got two minutes to catch up, hurry
|
| and it’s alright, yeah it’s ok
|
| it would be better if we turned the other way
|
| because we’re dropping bombs for freedom
|
| and it doesn’t look pretty
|
| pride is always higher when the caskets can’t be shown
|
| and pride survives from all that is unknown
|
| now I stand helpless and humbled children die inside their homes, sorry
|
| I don’t want to die
|
| not for a country, for a politician’s lie
|
| it’s just a flag it’s just a border
|
| it’s not sacred or divine
|
| it’s not alright, it’s not ok
|
| it would be better if we looked it in the face
|
| somehow I wish I could show the world they don’t represent me
|
| a bomb is not compassion a bullet’s not the only way |