Ben Koller.
The Boy With The Thorn In His Side.
Hell Comes Home.
Welcome home in a bodybag from the front lines of defeat.
Discharged “to a normal life” in a room
That’s two feet wide and six feet deep.
And the flag on your coffin, it might as well be the nails.
When all else fails, you are the wind
That sets their sails to a war
Played out before you were born.
Business as usual.
It’s business as usual.
Your business as usual is killing us all.
So bring out your dead, chalk up the score and we’ll go through the motions once more.
Buried on a Sunday in a military grave with a six gun salute from the master to the slave.
For the life that you gave, the promises that they broke, and the bribes that you paid.
Back in the land of the dead you’re buried where you fall.
No glorious deeds etched into a wall.
The monument is the blood in the sand, blood in the oil.
Blood on your hands.
When hell comes home, there’s hell to pay.
This is the price of oil.
Uncertainty.
Alpha Wolf.
Atomic/Static
Heartache.
We are falling down
We are falling
Every word that you pray makes another slave
Every idol that you build brings another plague
Every cross that you bear grows another grave
We are all falling down
We are all falling down
Down, down
We are all falling under the weight of our heartache
Under the weight of their mistakes
Mother Echidna.
