[ Hear the song ]
The cheque is blank, you generals
Let nothing you dismay
The world consists of black and white
No part of it is grey
Sign off on the body bag we’ve chosen for your son
but have i it back in 30 days. The battle’s far from won
The patriotic melodies that make our chests expand
(were) composed by eager sycophants whose sons bled in the sand
The warlords profit handsomely. The poor die for no reason
One marvels at our eager faith in their foul malfeasance
Your daughters served so bravely. We send her home now maimed
Don’t grouse though, There are benefits just waiting to be claimed
The drunken ballerina sprawls. The juggler’s down to just two balls
Within these bleak but hallowed halls, optimism’s vanished
His Ghastliness must be expelled, his puppy spayed, his kitten belled
the mighty oaks he’s climbed all felled, and all his minions banished
Down the sagging power lines the lie they’ve fed us crackles
The cotton for your pillowcase was picked by slaves in shackles
No refuge anymore in art. The dartboard’s ceased to fear the dart
With empty lungs and shattered heart you’re here and then departed
A woman of a certain age unlocks her husband’s gilded cage
For months he’s been consumed by rage. He hungers for revenge
A synagogue is first to burn, and then the church and mosque in turn
What next? We are afraid to learn. The Louvre or Stonehenge?
Guerillas in chic camouflage invade the oligarchs’ garage
but find that it’s a cruel mirage in which they’ll be imprisoned
Those whose throats remain unsliced proclaim themselves as one with Christ
that charismatic poltergeist, so handsome and so risen
The patriotic melodies that make so red our blood
composed by eager sycophants whose sons drowned in the mud
The jeopardy in which they placed themselves was their reward
for living here. The pen is much less mighty than the sword
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