Fuck the newspapers
Forget what's on the TV screen
They'll say we're winning
But they'll never tell you what was gained

Cash into pockets
Of the businessmen who call the shots
While shots are fired
Far from all their summer homes and yachts

Every day that passes
That we don't do anything
Another mother's son
Is dying on a battlefield

And while the children fight
And die for your America
The corporations run away
With our fucking world

So this is war
Our war

And just because we're strong
It doesn't mean we can't be gentle
We could be gentle

Fifty cent hearts
Is that all we're worth?