war drums

bip, bop.
bippity-bitty pop.
war drums clock, clock. clock.

ad-hoc, black bloc.
anarchy rules, walk. walk. walk.

two dogs bark.
the world watches, some in awe. others in shock.
“feed em’ to the croc! feed em’ to the croc!”
the chants get louder
a radio full of propaganda, or a censored browser?
take your pick, white wolf or black schnauzer

flip, flop.
new rules, news rule.
loose runes, loons rule.
war drums bop, bop. bop.

noose lune is here, time to sharpen the crop!
we shall march! light the torch and fire the glock!
nobody gets away, build the walls and seal the docks
once and for all, burn the commies and massacre the ox
tear up all the pretty frocks, feed em’ to the fox
tomorrow they will come for you too, knock knock knock
all that’ll be left will be roaches and rocks

nuke them, duke them. puke them, spook them.
it’s time for a war, the band marches through Anaheim.
flares shoot up in the sky, all hands up for hate crime
a collective suicide at an uncertain time
it used to be viva la revoluciĆ³n across the rhine
but it all simmered out somewhere down the line
all sense of moral abandoned, hanging atop an amazon ravine

and yet we have the audacity of questioning whats divine
it’s all past saving. the water is saline
drink and dine, shrink and die
it’s not a revolution, if it’s just one last whimpering cry

and the day we disappear
maybe we could start again all over and try

naye, delusions and the collective mind all too high
to remember we’re all just living one collective lie

trip, drop.
a riveting mop.
war drums chop, chop. chop.

flip, flop.
new rules, news rule.
loose runes, loons rule.
war drums bop, bop. bop.

ad-hoc, black bloc.
anarchy rules, walk. walk. walk.

war drums clock, clock.

click.

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