No dates to miss, no home to phone

No face to kiss, no good alone

No family, no history, a permenant delinquency

No will to smile, no room to cry

No time to think

Just watch, don't flinch

Why yes, that's you in your millionth clinch

You murder every time you blink



Some flee disasters for their lives

You flee the spawn of grubby lies

At one with graveyard dust and shipyard rust

Too loose to trust

You'll heal so much faster

if your homeland is your master



No dirt-cheap Adriatic sun

No heart of gold back of the gun

No deathcamps built for less than fun

No white man's bond, no civilization

No right to more than birth and death

from the drivelling drones of the former west

Their credo dead like Brezhnev's bones

Their headless spears and special malnutrition zones



No deathcamps here, I tell you

Just grey convenience hell

Ten civil wars unended

'neath billboard signs which yell,