Rust in Their War Machine

Teeth in the treads Oil on their flags Suit-and-tie vultures Counting body bags Steel in their pockets Ash in our lungs Kids learn the anthem Never what was done Spit in the war machine Rust in their holy gun Tear up the marching scene We’re not their chosen ones Spit in the war machine Blood on their paper crown If they want sacrifice let them take the fall Screens sell the carnage Bright Clean And brave Names crawl in silence Down an endless grave They preach about honor From miles away Safe in their bunkers While the dead decay Spit in the war machine Rust in their holy gun Tear up the marching scene We’re not their chosen ones Spit in the war machine Blood on their paper crown If they want sacrifice Let them fall Line us up They think we’ll kneel But we won’t bleed For their ideal Spit in the war machine Rust in their holy gun Tear up the marching scene We’re not their chosen ones Spit in the war machine Blood on their paper crown If they want sacrifice let them fall