Sons and daughters, friends and neighbours.
Every morning, all the papers.
How many thousand killed or maimed.
And you never knew their names?
Stock piled arms as tensions mount.
Like the numbers in your bank accounts.
But the checks you send their families
Won't buy you out of blame...

An army of one, like remaining limbs, like the mess were in.
Left to raise the kids, until our minds decides to make it change

Its purple hearts and networks feed, don't try to make this fun.
Sacrificed for this great land, but there's no shaking phantom hands.
Pat on the back, "I'm sorry son, thanks for a job well done"...

An army of one, like remaining limbs, like the mess were in.
Left to raise the kids, until our minds decides to make it change

Their war, what's it fucking good for,
Makes 'em lots of money, so we do it again and again...