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Flowers and Birds

When we return we will be flowers and birds.

Will our children be sacraficial lambs offered up to ease the fears of the multinational corporations like so many brainwashed media zombies? Petroleum and it's byproducts should not be a dependancy in a technology based society. Nothing lasts for ever and we cannot ask God for our gasoline!

Chronicles, of a nation in distress, throw up your hands, don't worry you been blessed, go ahead baby hide under the matress, but I am prepared, cause this is the true test. My country is my ass, and I will protect that, but only a man with a gun can respect that senators sit on their asses and get fat, while I'm in the jungle but I get the last laugh. The feel of a firearm a resting in my arm, the harder to do hard, with my lucky death charm, the weight of the rounds that, I carry on my back, we send up a flare and make radio contact. A chopper arrives, it's the gift of a close friend, we parachute in and we tie up some loose ends. There's only one rule for hand to hand combat: kill first or be killed, never forget that.

(When we return)
One lonely american soldier, counts the medals on his shoulder.
(Will we be flowers or birds)
One million american children, are marching off to their oblivion.

To be convinced that we're doing the right thing, protecting the world from the dark and the frightning, we can cash in on the regional conflict that holds enough thrill and the glamour to distract, our numbed out minds from the war on our own streets, the garbage we make and the garbage that we eat. We lead the path to the karma conception, but who will be chosen in the final election. Blacklisted, twisted, resisted, feel the force of a ppl uplifted, raise your fists, and join in the protest, when half of your paycheck is filling the war chest. Who can we trust to look after our intrests, our friends in the military-industrial complex? Powerful ones can exploit the weakness and pull on the strings of a telivision relflex.

(When we return)
One lonely american soldier, faces east and gives his orders.
(We will be flowers and birds)
How many, innocent children, will burn to death, while no ones looking.

Go ahead and try, to seperate the real from the illusion - but who ya foolin?
(Who ya fooling baby?)
If you set your mind, then you might find, that this whole game depends, on your confusion.

[Whistling]

[Hutting]

(When we return)
One lonely american soldier, stands determined at the border.
(We will be flowers and birds)
Last hope for civilization, he'll pay the price for our salvation.

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