G.I. Joe motherfucker cock-rock-n-roll
Mama’s baby blue-eyed boy on death squad patrol
Thought Mogadishu would teach you
Not to stir a sleeping tomb
They’ll ship you back in a plastic sack
The trophy of some Beltway hack

Blood and mourning
Page-12 stories
Scrubbed with chlorine
So fucking boring

Hiding out in Mission town
Like a dusty Tikrit hole
You can hang with insane hand wringers
So guilty about their role
With teary eyes they eulogize
The bloodstains on their gold
Cry for the poor brown children
‘Til they learn to throw a stone

Napalm mornings
Rinsed with chlorine
Page-12 stories
So fucking boring

They will try to poison the breech
You must resist!
Open the cracks for our defeat
We must resist!
Their cold tactics lack a heart equipped to beat
They must concede
If we are not fooled to provide the tools
They must retreat!

We’ve got you on the run
Motherfucker on the run
We’ve got you on the run.




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