or "how to show off your wit and knowledge by making a lot of obscure references as part of a clumsily-structured protest song"
... the wonderful thing about e2 is that you can link your references, thus making yourself seem even cooler.
"Since 1991, our country has been enforcing a
no-fly zone. It's a routine mission and we will continue to enforce the no-fly zone
until the world is told otherwise."
- U.S. President George W. Bush
they can't radiate
we need to isolate
tolerate no disturbance
cos I need the assurance
that my stock options are safe
bury, bury, starvation is cool
haven't you seen those English waifs?
what did they teach you in school?
we're the real, live angels who freed Kuwait
spin it
on CNN
line up those dates
they'll give us the time
for us, no debates
just acceptance sublime
we are the free world
the free world is great
love this standard unfurled
all this pie on our plate
eat up this desert
fly AF-1 to Bahrain
on alert
alone we keep the wolves at bay
or atleast that's what we'll say
when interviewed in Vanity Train
just a short hop
to beautiful Somalia
the perfect photo op
for the world's chief saviah'
then dragged through the dirt
we got out quick
and sure, that one hurt
but the press forgets even faster than Philip K. Dick
next target the Balkans
oil again, a planned pipeline
and forty percent euro heroin
we have got to keep those junkies supplied
but let's pretend there's genocide
and say there's mass graves
the New York Times will behave
and Blitzer will never report that we lied
apply the terror, the collateral damage
carefully though, 'cos just like Cheney's rhythm
it's always such a subtle dance
especially when, as we hit 'em
we smash hotels like Air France
fly the patrol
prosecute that space
with prejudice
keep control
and return to base
it should never be us
that will come to HARM
just peasants, on a bus
or potshot on olive farms
six eighty seven
legislating Hell, not Heaven
so I can drive my Camaro
from El Paso to Barrow
like Killey in his Chevy
I'll drive down to the levee
and crawl, fuck
anything for cash, really
okay, in private
over sips of Old Glory
we can admit that we're bastards
and tell the true story
of oil kings and compulsive greed
of powerplays and backstabbings many
the hungry pains of created need
and America's eternal manifest destiny
we'll smoke our cigars and freely admit
that these wars and embargos
these photo-op summits
are about as humanitarian
as fucking Maid Marian