minimalism

So what the fuck is this UK
Gunnin' with this US of A
In Iraq and Iran and in Afganistan

Does not a day go by
When not the Israeli Air Force
Fail to drops it's bombs from the sky?

How many mothers to cry?
How many sons have to die?
How many missions left to fly over Palistine?
'Cause as a matter of facts
It's a pact, it's an act
These are illegal Attacks
So bring the soldies back
These are illegal attacks
It's contracts for contacts
I'm singing concrete facts
So bring the soldiers back

What mean ya that you beat my people
What mean ya that you beat my people
And grind the faces of the poor

So tell me just how come were the Taliban
Sat burning incense in Texas
Roaming round in a Lexus
Sittin' on six billion oils drums
Down with the Dow Jones
Up on the Nasdaq
Pushed into the war zones

It's a commercial crusade
'Cause all the oil men get paid
But only so many soldiers come home
It's a commando crusade
A military charade
And only so many soldiers come home

What mean ya that you beat my people
What mean ya that you beat my people
And grind the faces of the poor

Soldiers, soldiers come home
Soldiers come home

Through all the blood and sweat
Nobody can forget
It ain't the size of the dog in the fight
It's the size of the fight in the dog on the day
Or the night
There's no time to reflect
On the threat, the situation, the bark nor the bite
These are commercial crusades
'Cause all the oli men get paid
These are commando crusades
Commando tactical rape
And from the streets of New York and
Baghdad to Tehran and Tel Aviv
Bring forth the prophets of the Lord
From dirty bastards fillin' pockets
With the profits of greed

These are commercial crusades
Commando tactical raids
Playin' military charades to get paid

And who got the devils?
And who got the Lords?
Build yourself a mountain
Drink up in the fountain
Soldiers come home
Soldiers come home
Soldiers come home
Soldiers come home

What mean ya that you beat my people
What mean ya that you beat my people
And grind the faces of the poor