Propagandhi - Name and Address Withheld lyrics
[Propagandhi - Name and Address Withheld lyrics]
The following views expressed
Do not necessarily reflect
Those of the prevailing
Order, who prostrate to
Their naked kings, tailor the seams of
Funeral shrouds on foreign shores
But shed no tears for the dead
The dead of the endless list of
Informal wars, the justification for
Will be spelled out for me, coming soon
To a screen near me near you
I'm feeling less hopeful
And so much less human
As my days are reduced to little more than
Settling for revenge
And wondering whatever happened to
The kid that pledged
Chalk it up to an overdeveloped
Sense of unbridled vengeance
Somebody fed me too much
New Hope for breakfast
'Cause as the empire
Preemptively strikes back
Again and the voice of Luke's father
Baritones that this is CNN
Recall Arab kids, slaughtered, reduced
To sand niggers and ragheads
And now I'm expected to mourn
Dead Americans?
The executioner's willing citizens
I'm so sorry and I'm trying
To think it through
But when the chickens came home to roost
And hand-delivered, and hand-delivered
Matching funeral urns to the
Bully that never learns
I could have sworn I heard
A chorus rise and fall
Wishing them so many more unhappy returns
But in every war waged
Only kings emerge unscathed
Do not necessarily reflect
Those of the prevailing
Order, who prostrate to
Their naked kings, tailor the seams of
Funeral shrouds on foreign shores
But shed no tears for the dead
The dead of the endless list of
Informal wars, the justification for
Will be spelled out for me, coming soon
To a screen near me near you
I'm feeling less hopeful
And so much less human
As my days are reduced to little more than
Settling for revenge
And wondering whatever happened to
The kid that pledged
Chalk it up to an overdeveloped
Sense of unbridled vengeance
Somebody fed me too much
New Hope for breakfast
'Cause as the empire
Preemptively strikes back
Again and the voice of Luke's father
Baritones that this is CNN
Recall Arab kids, slaughtered, reduced
To sand niggers and ragheads
And now I'm expected to mourn
Dead Americans?
The executioner's willing citizens
I'm so sorry and I'm trying
To think it through
But when the chickens came home to roost
And hand-delivered, and hand-delivered
Matching funeral urns to the
Bully that never learns
I could have sworn I heard
A chorus rise and fall
Wishing them so many more unhappy returns
But in every war waged
Only kings emerge unscathed