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- Birth Control Lyrics / with translations
Birth Control lyrics English translation
Letra de Birth Control en traducción al Español
Paroles de Birth Control traduction Française
Letra de Birth Control tradução Portuguesa
Birth Control songtexte Deutsche Übersetzung
Testo di Birth Control tradotto in Italiano
Birth Controlの歌詞 日本語訳
Birth Control şarkı sözleri Türkçe çeviri
Текст песни Birth Control на русском языке.
Tekst piosenki Birth Control po polsku
Birth Control 가사 한국어 번역
Birth Control-tekst Norsk oversettelse
Lirik Birth Control terjemahan bahasa Indonesia
Birth Control गाने के बोल का हिंदी अनुवाद
Birth Control songtekst Nederlandse vertaling
Στίχοι Birth Control Ελληνική μετάφραση
Birth Control-texten till Svensk översättning
เนื้อเพลง Birth Control คำแปลภาษาไทย
كلمات أغنية Birth Control مترجمة إلى اللغة العربية
Birth Control歌詞中文翻譯
Industry on the mercenary bloodpath
Military loves the gory warbath
Economics shape the battle landscape
All join together for the grand rape
Moral intentions make a scapegoat
Excuse the rotting corpse inside the trenchcoat
Praise the rotting minds above the club tie
That sits in towers up in the blue sky
Above the clouds, obscure the scarred earth
Discuss manoeuvres, moves for more death
Arms make profit from the crushed head
Build the towers up on the ditch dead
Betrayal forms the formal skyline
Tinted windows catch the sunshine
Such ice cold beauty makes the heart sink
Five thousand miles away the dead stink
And here the graveyard to insult them
The city shines with laughing tombstones
The profiteers, the warcry butchers
Stir up the lust for legal slaughter
The living dead who look up to them
Who accept authority the kills them
Work for the corporation making napalm
Workers watch the burning children
On T.V. as they eat their meat pie
With refusal in their minds eye
To see their own lives in that cold death
Their state of wealth upon that lost breath
In the official offices of deathplan
Leaders of men work to betray man
Stocks and shares declare the next war
The torture starts behind the locked door
Propaganda tops the big desk
Compose an overture to fine death
The hideous grey men of our nightmares
Dim the colour, foul the clean air
Their eyes forsake all that they dwell on
Drag the lover from the loved ones
Patriots progress is a backstep
A cruel noose around a young neck
They teach our children in the classroom
To respect a madman on a rostrum
To praise the the dirty works of battle
Bring out the ribbon, balloon and rattle
To dig their own graves in the cold earth
So sad and pointless now to give birth