Birth Control - Crass



Industry on the mercenary bloodpath

Military loves the gory warbath

Economics shape the battle landscape

All join together for the grand rape

Moral intentions make a scapegoat

Excuse the rotting corpse inside the trenchcoat

Praise the rotting minds above the club tie

That sits in towers up in the blue sky

Above the clouds, obscure the scarred earth

Discuss manoeuvres, moves for more death

Arms make profit from the crushed head

Build the towers up on the ditch dead

Betrayal forms the formal skyline

Tinted windows catch the sunshine

Such ice cold beauty makes the heart sink

Five thousand miles away the dead stink

And here the graveyard to insult them

The city shines with laughing tombstones

The profiteers, the warcry butchers

Stir up the lust for legal slaughter

The living dead who look up to them

Who accept authority the kills them

Work for the corporation making napalm

Workers watch the burning children

On T.V. as they eat their meat pie

With refusal in their minds eye

To see their own lives in that cold death

Their state of wealth upon that lost breath

In the official offices of deathplan

Leaders of men work to betray man

Stocks and shares declare the next war

The torture starts behind the locked door

Propaganda tops the big desk

Compose an overture to fine death

The hideous grey men of our nightmares

Dim the colour, foul the clean air

Their eyes forsake all that they dwell on

Drag the lover from the loved ones

Patriots progress is a backstep

A cruel noose around a young neck

They teach our children in the classroom

To respect a madman on a rostrum

To praise the the dirty works of battle

Bring out the ribbon, balloon and rattle

To dig their own graves in the cold earth

So sad and pointless now to give birth



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