Industry on the mercenary bloodpath,
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Military loves the gory warbath,
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Economics shape the battle landscape,
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All join together for the grand rape.
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Moral intentions make a scapegoat,
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Excuse the rotting corpse inside the trenchcoat.
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Praise the rotting minds above the club tie
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That sits in towers up in the blue sky,
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Above the clouds, obscure the scarred earth,
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Discuss manoeuvres, moves for more death,
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Arms make profit from the crushed head,
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Build the towers up on the ditch head.
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Betrayal forms the formal skyline,
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Tinted windows catch the sunshine,
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Such ice cold beauty makes the heart sink,
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Five thousand miles away the dead stink.
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And here the graveyard to insult them,
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The city shines with laughing tombstones.
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The profiteers, the warcry butchers,
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Stir up the lust for legal slaughter.
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The living dead who look up to them,
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Who accept authority that kills them,
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Work for the corporation making napalm,
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Workers watch the burning children on T.V.
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As they eat their meat pie
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With refusal in their minds
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Eye to see their own lives in that cold death,
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Their state of wealth upon that lost breath.
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In the official offices of deathplan
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Leaders of men work to betray man.
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Stocks and shares declare the next war,
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The torture starts behind the locked door,
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Propaganda tops the big desk.
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Compose an overture to fine death.
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The hideous grey men of our nightmares
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Dim the colour, foul the clean air,
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Their eyes forsake all that they dwell on,
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Drag the lover from the loved ones.
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Patriots progress is a backstep,
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A cruel noose around a young neck.
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They teach our children in the classroom
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To respect a madman on a rostrum,
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To praise the dirty works of battle,
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Bring out the ribbon, balloon and rattle,
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To dig their own graves in the cold earth...
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So sad and pointless now to give birth.
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-----------------
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Birth Control 'n' Rock 'n' Roll
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Crass |