Semi​-​Automated Machinery

from Communiqu​é​s by ABEARICA

/

lyrics

Live poor, die poor, this is what you fight for
My war, I want more, show me what you would die for
My sons, nice ones married into wives' sums
Now guns make funds, take none of my grandsons
Handsome, prancing through their lives and dancing
On your dirty graves for your bravery advancing
Last things, last words, nothing for you bastards
Past is dead and the memories don't last
You're just one number added to another, but
The other's too much for us to really bother with
Last month's pay gets docked for when you swallowed it
We'll tell your family that we're very, very sorry that
You won't be coming back from a war that we regret
To send them the news on behalf of the department
That their son is stuffed in a compartment
You're not without a letter from the President

You're just part of this killing machine
Replaceable, tastefully snuffed out from the scene
You joined in a change at an American dream
Dreams sell and we'll tell you any mother-fucking thing

You aspire for more, what are you waiting for?
We'll give you college money and worldwide tour
Pour buckets of that money into companies that want it
They'll strap you with the best vests and guns, but keep the wallets
Peep the science, lingo learned from the violence
Our greatest commodity is all you people dying
Live poor, die poor, this is what you fight for
My war, I want more

credits

from Communiqu​é​s, released March 31, 2010
words by William R.

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ABEARICA Brooklyn, New York

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