By Steven Brant
(hear
the song)
They spend our children’s money
Like a sailor on shore leave
If it weren’t sad it would be funny
The way some folks believe
Their talk of moral laws
And of fiscal common sense
While they're spending without pause
Enriching all their friends
A government for the few
It’s a slo-mo coup
A slow-motion coup d’état
Patriots aren’t gauged
By yellow ribbons on a truck
Real battles aren’t staged
By PR men run amok
Our sons and daughters die
In a dark unholy war
While the court jesters decry
Those who ask what they’re dying for
Breaking the taboo
It’s a slo-mo coup
A slow-motion coup d’état
Sometimes a great nation is napping when the crisis
arrives
Sometimes a great nation implodes; I pray that this nation survives
That the dawn’s early light finds this great nation alive
They brush away the fine details
That clutter up the truth
Their thumbs weigh on justice scales
Their bodies block the voting booths
Anything to stay in power
Buying votes and selling souls
Counting on the press to cower
And not expose the holes
But salute on cue
It’s a slo-mo coup
A slow-motion coup d’état
Declaring open season
On those who disagree
Murmuring of treason
And jails without a key
For those still asking why
For the restless and the poor
For a few fools such as I
So you’ll think that you’re secure
Till they come for you
It’s a slo-mo coup
A slow-motion coup d’état
Copyright © 2006 by Steven Brant. All rights reserved.
