[Title: The CIA Chronicles - Part 4: The Golden Triangle Sentence]

WIJ!!maanberg

gypsy jazz, industrial, cinematic classical / baroque-inspired

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V5.5

[Date: 1965-1975]

[Style: Serious Up-tempo Gypsy Jazz with Driving Rhythmic Cadence]

[Verse 1]
Inside the late committee blocks, behind a heavy screen,
The trust directors papered down the frozen verdict scene.
The judges stamped the settlement files to sweep the past away,
To grant the shadow monopoly heads immunity today.
The state administrators checked the numbers on the floor,
To seal the secret cartel tracks behind the palace door.
The Vatican, the Bank, the Crown worked synchronously as one,
To print the post-war Air America net before the race was won!

[Verse 2]
The international merchants and the managers of the square,
Calculated the corporate wealth while climbing up the stair.
The house of Rothschild inside London drew the inner line,
To buy the central property and block the light divine.
The puppet enforcers on the stage believed their words were law,
A magnificent mechanical power that the masses with terror saw.
They didn't see the layout of the triple corporate net,
That used the staged tribunals just to draw the ledger and collect!

[Verse 3]
The hidden operators planned the tactical regime,
To keep the local population underneath the asset machine.
The managers of shadow courts controlled the central press,
To contaminate the verdict logs and maintain the long distress.
The living witnesses today still look back at the frame,
How every single government has played the lying game.
The columns marched by thousands through the dust and through the mud,
While the system ran the numbers on the cost of human blood!

[Chorus]
The puppet theater is truly closing now,
the curtain falls and they stand exposed,
No more strings and no more crowns,
We watch with our Hands raised high,
And see them standing in the full light...

They broke their solemn duty to the crowd,
But we have no masters on this sovereign land,
And no wooden director commands this living hand

Born in Freedom,
And in Freedom,
we will live on ..

[Outro]
The golden altars treat presidents with lead,
the ancient crowns will rust,
The manufactured empires will crumble into dust.
There was no PRIDE On there side, 
just greed so they choose to lock their mind!

God says: Your Body is MY Temple
And no wooden master commands this living heart.
Born in Freedom,
And in Freedom,
we will live on ..

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[Title: The CIA Chronicles - Part 4: The Golden Triangle Sentence] [Date: 1965-1975] [Style: Serious Up-tempo Gypsy Jazz with Driving Rhythmic Cadence] [Verse 1] Inside the late committee blocks, behind a heavy screen, The trust directors papered down the frozen verdict scene. The judges stamped the settlement files to sweep the past away, To grant the shadow monopoly heads immunity today. The state administrators checked the numbers on the floor, To seal the secret cartel tracks behind the palace door. The Vatican, the Bank, the Crown worked synchronously as one, To print the post-war Air America net before the race was won! [Verse 2] The international merchants and the managers of the square, Calculated the corporate wealth while climbing up the stair. The house of Rothschild inside London drew the inner line, To buy the central property and block the light divine. The puppet enforcers on the stage believed their words were law, A magnificent mechanical power that the masses with terror saw. They didn't see the layout of the triple corporate net, That used the staged tribunals just to draw the ledger and collect! [Verse 3] The hidden operators planned the tactical regime, To keep the local population underneath the asset machine. The managers of shadow courts controlled the central press, To contaminate the verdict logs and maintain the long distress. The living witnesses today still look back at the frame, How every single government has played the lying game. The columns marched by thousands through the dust and through the mud, While the system ran the numbers on the cost of human blood! [Chorus] The puppet theater is truly closing now, the curtain falls and they stand exposed, No more strings and no more crowns, We watch with our Hands raised high, And see them standing in the full light... They broke their solemn duty to the crowd, But we have no masters on this sovereign land, And no wooden director commands this living hand Born in Freedom, And in Freedom, we will live on .. [Outro] The golden altars treat presidents with lead, the ancient crowns will rust, The manufactured empires will crumble into dust. There was no PRIDE On there side, just greed so they choose to lock their mind! God says: Your Body is MY Temple And no wooden master commands this living heart. Born in Freedom, And in Freedom, we will live on ..

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