the moms (punk) - criminals lyrics
it was a full moon in the heartland
when i first had the thought
that all the world’s best criminals
are the ones who won’t get caught
no the ones who are in charge
living lives where they’re living at large
never to see a charge
the ones who own the jails
and make the rules
that keep [?]
convince us that their [?] is always true
the ones that print the money and hide the truth
that turn us into living proof
that what we don’t see don’t hurt us, ’til it do
so this one’s for the struggling vet
who’s mind’s a mess with traumatic stress
he says, “i’ve seen things i can’t relate
to anyone else in the lower 48”
so v.a, give me something better
a white-picket fence and an irish setter
brown, small, strong, courtesy of the state
the ones who pull the wool over eyes
to the atrocities the whole world wide
convince us that their aim is always true
while they bring bombers, bullets, [?]
armored trucks and body bags
making enemies on behalf of me and you
i want my flag back, you see
if it were up to me
it’d still mean trust, morality, and opportunity
i want my flag back, you see
if it were up to me
it’d still mean honor, and liberty, and prosperity
no more bombers, bullets, [?]
no armored trucks, no body bags
no more [?] wrapped in white, red, or blue
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