we'd been twelve years down so they rallied all around 

and they offered up the boys to die 

trading blood for money, selling flags and spining lies 

and business getting better was the battle cry 

its got nothing to do with you 

its not a happy story 

you wont see em running the numbers 

but you'll see who gets the fucking glory 

urban epidemics always seem much more severe 

when problems turn from black to white 

and candle-coated vigils always seeming to sincere 

atleast until the end of the night 

they're selling flags and spinning lies while sending someone elses son's to die