You've got the pen, and we've done the typing.
Why can't you get us home for good? Let's put it
in writing! On and on, we argue so; the sirens
blare and the whistles blow till we cannot hear
anymore. This is the score.
We've armed a bear - why are we bullfighting?
Why do we prance our little flag around as if he's
not biting? On and on: We've bled so long, now
the waters rise and our libs are gone, and we
cannot swim anymore. This is the score.
Now on the chase, our colors are falling; two
nations removed form where the resistance is
calling... On and on, we're fractured now. The
families shake, those children howling on and
on, no end in sight. No drawdown. No light
for any company to see.
This is the score.
