Redemption Road (Party Lines)

There's no sign of redemption
in any of their words
no hint of compassion
just whetstones on swords
and they're singing a song
of bluebloods and lords...
but I can't dig the beat

They're raising the roof
but I can only hear noise
a rallying cry
for the neanderthal boys
a death march tune
that’s hard on the ears…
is this anthem really for me?

Dad said never a beggar
or a borrower be
use your God given wits
said its all down to me
you don't owe a thing
to the meat factory...
we can all vote with our feet

But I put a cross in a fucking box
then shouldered a rifle
and saluted a boss
who said killings a trifle
of a people with nothing
but goat milk and crude oil...
we've all got in too deep



There's tanks in the streets
so lock up your daughters
people standing in line
like sheep to the slaughter
want to undo those restraints
like I know I ought to...
but I can't stand the heat

Its been drummed into us
they'll rip out your guts
and wear em as garters
and slice off your nuts
just to string em on wire
a necklace for luck…
in a bullet ripped filthy ghetto

Expecting a cartridge
between the eyes
feel crosshairs upon me
no big surprise
oh, look whats coming
down the pipe boys...
another suspect device



I'm dodging the shrapnel
and the mortars and shells
praying to god
and practising spells
to keep me from harm
and out of their hands...
don't let 'em snatch me away

'Cos i don't wanna die
with a sword to my neck
reciting their words
a broken wreck
down on my knees facing the lens
that unblinking witness...
to a youtubed end

So now I'm skipping 
in and out of the line
to a lethal cadence
a grand design
as they're dragged to the wall
when its blindfold time...
cos its better not to see

I'm counting the corpses
keeping the tally
pariahs on the march
like the nuremberg rally
dunno who's a friend a foe or an ally
I'd rather die...
than witness this



Once utterly fearless, hard as nails
as atrocities stack up
the blood lustre pales
cracks in my armour
no wind in my sails
for their lies, propaganda, war monger tales…
the killing joke

I'm tired and weak
and emotionally wounded
mentally burned out
wired and clueless
a wannabe jesus who turned out a judas
this satanic charade…
it ain't my style

So fuck 'em lets dance
and lets feel fine
lets turn round and waltz
back behind the lines
and take a piss up the great wall of shame
where we all said 'yes' so we're all to blame…
even me

Its war crime time,
boys, war crime time
'cos we followed the piper and the party line
we dug out the pits and put the bodies in lime
yes, its own up time,
boys, own up time...
come clean



c 2013 Paul McEvoy