It's always the old to lead us to the war
It's always the young to fall
Now look at all we've won with the sabre and the gun
Tell me is it worth it all
For I stole California from the Mexican land
Fought in the bloody Civil War
Yes I even killed my brother
And so many others
And I ain't marchin' anymore
For I marched to the battles of the German trench
In a war that was bound to end all wars
Oh I must have killed a million men
And now they want me back again
But I ain't marchin' anymore
For I flew the final mission in the Japanese sky
Set off the mighty mushroom roar
When I saw the cities burning
I knew that I was learning
That I ain't marchin' anymore
C’mon, you can’t beat that for cliché ridden saccharine schmaltz.
If I was that crappy a songwriter, I’d hang myself. Which is exactly what Phil Ochs did.
But "We're the cops of the world, friends, we're the cops of the world..."
Then there's this one from REM:
These bastards stole their power from the victims of the Us v. Them years.
Wrecking all things virtuous and true.
The undermining social democratic downhill slide into abysmal
Lost lamb off the precipice into the trickle down runoff pool.
They hypnotized the summer, nineteen seventy-nine.
Marched into the capital brooding duplicitous, wicked and able, media-ready,
heartless, and labeled. Super U.S. citizen, super achiever,
mega ultra power dosing. Relax.
Defense, defense, defense, defense. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ignoreland.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ignoreland.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
The information nation took their clues from all the sound - bite gluttons.
Nineteen eighty, eighty-four, eighty-eight, ninety-two too, too.
How to be what you can be, jump jam junking your energies.
How to walk in dignity with throw-up on your shoes.
They amplified the autumn, nineteen seventy-nine.
Calculate the capital, up the republic my skinny ass.
T.V. tells a million lies. The papers terrified to report
anything that isn't handed on a presidential spoon,
I'm just profoundly frustrated by all this. So, f--- you, man.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ignoreland.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ignoreland.
If they weren't there we would have created them. Maybe, it's true,
but I'm resentful all the same. Someone's got to take the blame.
I know that this is vitriol. No solution, spleen-venting,
But I feel better having screamed; don't you?
They desecrated winter, nineteen seventy-nine.
Capital collateral. Brooding duplicitous, wicked and able, media-ready,
heartless and labeled. Super U.S. citizen, super achiever,
mega ultra power dosing. Relax.
Defense, defense, defense, defense. Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ignoreland.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ignoreland.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.