M.I.C.


Funded by deep pockets, the State has got their back.
A thousand defence projects, to kill, maim and attack.
Perpetual bloody motion, driven by pain and blood,
the grist of men in battle, poor low-lifes from the hood.

We build the machines, to destroy the machines.
[WAR MACHINES]
We build the machines, to destroy the cities.
We build the machines, to rebuild the cities.
We build the machines, to destroy the machines.

CHORUS

Politicians sittin’ pretty, bloody well-oiled hands,
Never done a day’s work, never drafted for their land.
Defendin’ worldwide borders, whilst back home migrants flood.
Their treason demands tribute, their worthless souls and blood.

PRE-CHORUS

CHORUS

Guns, tanks, missiles, rockets, bullets, fighters, drones,
Drain precious resources, keepin’ down the proles.
This madness will not end well, somethin’ has to give.
Till then the MIC will deliver: precision sufferin’.

PRE-CHORUS

CHORUS

©4.8.2019 Andrew Robert Chapman


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