The Old Lie

Send me all your huddled masses
Your tired and your poor
Your bravest and your brightest
So i can send them off to war
With promises of grandeur
Hopes for a better life
Seduce a generation
To suffer in your fight
Five thousand years of history
The only progress I can see
We kill with more precision
In greater numbers, over pettier divisions
Five thousand years of history
Carried out so violently
Headlines on television
Masking the content of this ruinous condition
Bleeding on the front lines
And if your soul your «God» can’t save
Ship me back to D.C.
And dig me a mass grave
Or build me a memorial
A grand victorious sight
And tell your kids the old lie
It’s glorious to die
Five thousand years of history
The only progress I can see
We kill with more precision
In greater numbers, over pettier divisions
Five thousand years of history
Carried out so violently
Headlines on television
Masking the content of this ruinous condition