Текст: Crime In Stereo. No Gold Stars For Nationalism.

Catastrophe!
Now all my happiest memories
bear distance resemblance
to a nations spent shell casings to me.
It's so obscene.
With guns, germs, and steel we march faithfully into war
until this one becomes abandoned
like those on drugs and poverty before.
Two men do not make a world.
If it's for us all, where's the support?
Let's call a spade imperialism.
We're off focus. I bet if I had a gun
and a bullet for every kid I knew around here

whose parents haven't spoken in years,
I could fight these wars myself.
Procure oil myself.
Given half chance by myself
to produce results in foreign lands
I could connect pipelines by myself.
Establish satellites by myself.