| How ready are you
|
| To die for an ideal?
|
| What’s the connection
|
| Between a lie and what is real?
|
| Mother Superior
|
| I’ve got an angel on my back
|
| I’m one of the righteous
|
| And I’m never going back
|
| No, no, no
|
| I’m never going back
|
| Who’s that shining forth-right man
|
| About to die behind me
|
| He’s waiting for the portress to
|
| Send me head over heels
|
| Who’s that black-heart four-star
|
| General walking up the hill
|
| To ask the liberals nicely
|
| To help, finance his private war
|
| And if I didn’t trust that man
|
| When he puts the rifle in your hand
|
| Sings you songs of pageantry and grace
|
| And how much you want to bet
|
| On the other side
|
| There’s a man with twice your pride
|
| And they put you feet first in an
|
| Unmarked grave
|
| There was a time in our history
|
| When we justified by saying
|
| Our destinies manifest
|
| Now imperialism is the mantra
|
| Of the west
|
| See that trigger happy
|
| College boys, love a chance
|
| To try out their new toys
|
| Then they wash the city streets
|
| Clean, with the blood of infidels
|
| As the fabric of democracy
|
| Left tattered in the dust
|
| We could put, another greedy man
|
| Into the dictatorial
|
| Puppet-show, now
|
| Tell me, who do you trust
|
| Who do you trust
|
| And an abominable hemisphere
|
| Would perpetuate a heart-whole
|
| Atmosphere
|
| Call it a threat
|
| To national security
|
| Call it just a poor-sick face
|
| One more place
|
| To export cheap labor
|
| Hail the monarchy
|
| Hail the oligarchy
|
| A potential for anarchy
|
| And we pat ourselves
|
| Firmly on the back |