Our customs have become the premise for grand celebration
The land is providing for the economy and new generations
Through every excavation
every working man's hand in this
god-fearing nation
Yet somewhere out there tucked between suburban trees
Is a voracious and audacious creeping disease
It's not the need for attractions abroad or love of foreign things
Or the way the new generation of pop sensations sing
It's not transformations of land or our contributions to climatic doom
Or the fact we've relaxed and inhaled decades of industrial fumes
Because for quite some time our breed has slowly become immune
It's the new poster boy who wants to rip a hole in the world
And turn citizen on citizen until chaos unfurls
Who wants to start wars and prolong them a child at play
He reaches for your prejudice with each rhetoric he sprays
He pulls your heart and rubs it with anger and outrage to marinate it
Then he throws it on the barbecue until your compassion is exterminated
He'll devour your heart to fill his void as you perfect your extreme hate
If your vote goes to the reckless bigot with a mind for war
A new brand of clumsy fascism will infect the country starting with the poor
If you vote for this hate monger in a wig there'll be no way to ignore
The sound of batons, shields and jack boots up your streets and outside your door
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário