Winston Apple

TALKIN' MILITARY-INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX BLUES

Lyrics and music by Winston Apple
Congress is filled with cowards who 
Haven’t voted to declare a war since World War Two
We’ve been in a lot of scrapes since then
But time and time again they pass the buck to the president
They run a resolution through authorizing him to do 
Whatever the hell it is he thinks we need to do
Which conveniently enough seems to be exactly what 
The five-star CEOs are telling him to do
And the death count mounts climbing higher and higher

Corporate bag men and their D. C. flunkies 
Are playing “Let’s Make A Deal” using the taxpayer’s money
They wrap themselves up in the flag to shield their deals from prying eyes
It’s a patriotic gesture, which also serves to hide 
All the money in their pockets and the blood on their hands
And it obscures the view of those who seek to understand 
How we got ourselves into this mess we’re in
And exactly how we might go about getting out again

How much more money do you need?
How many more lives will you sacrifice on your alters to wealth and greed
How much more money do you need?

To patriotic profiteers too much is not enough
So the Pentagon prods Congress to build ever bigger troughs
And to keep shoveling the money, so the blood and the profits flow
When we vanquish an enemy, they find a bigger, better foe
Ike cried “Wolf!” when the wolf was at the door
Now the wolf is in the House and on the Senate floor
And the “War on Terror” is a never-ending war
How much longer will we let this go on?

Consumed by greed, maybe you can’t help yourself
But if you want to start a war, don’t send somebody else
Go and do your own fighting, put your own life on the line
Or send your own sons and daughters to do your dirty work next time
Maybe your money won’t seem so precious when it’s you and your’s dying

If I could bring back all the soldiers who fought bravely and died
Never knowing the truth about why they gave up their lives
And let the fat cats and fanatics take their places in the grave
It wouldn’t be a difficult decision to make
A few thousand warmongers lying dead in the ground
Would make this world of ours a better place