Fuck the newspapers
Forget what's on the TV screen
They'll say we're winning
But they'll never tell you what was gained
Cash into pockets
Of the businessmen who call the shots
While shots are fired
Far from all their summer homes and yachts
Every day that passes
That we don't do anything
Another mother's son
Is dying on a battlefield
And while the children fight
And die for your America
The corporations run away
With our fucking world
So this is war
Our war
And just because we're strong
It doesn't mean we can't be gentle
We could be gentle
Fifty cent hearts
Is that all we're worth?
