Bastards Of War
A song I belted out today to the tune of Dylan's incredible original.
Like Zola, J’accuse. Like Dylan, I condemn those that profit from death. It’s all around us. We do nothing about it, as the stockpiles get higher.
Oh sure, we say, “these death sticks are for peace”. But in the history of mankind, we’ve never made anything and not used it.
I remember tramping through Fort Wayne Indiana in the 90s. I slept outside some industrial area. In the morning, watched all the housewives go into one big factory with their lunch pails. Later found out that this place made missile guidance systems, sold all over the world, to the highest bidder.
We are complicit. Even Canada, my “home” land is now one of the biggest arms dealers in the world. Even, S.Korea where I live now, is one of the biggest arms dealers, this death industry representing some 30% of GDP.
In our coffee shops, in our living rooms, decent people participate in one form or another, in the murders we witness on our screens. We could end world hunger but instead we build a Trident submarine worth more than the GDP of 50% of the world’s nations.
All I got is my voice, my words. But I do feel like grabbing a bucket of red paint and heading out to the nearest Israeli embassy to splash some symbolic wash on their gate - to wake people up.
Come you bastards of war
You that finance all the death
You that make the fighter planes
You that manage all that’s left.
You that smoke those fine cigars
You that relax in your box at the Super Bowl
I just want you to know
I can see into your soul.
You that didn’t earn nothing
But took credit and false fame.
You toy with our world
Like it’s your little risk game.
You arm and encourage others
To go kill, stab and maim.
And you relax on your yacht
While the blood wreeks its pain.
Like a Ceasar of old
Our suffering you don’t hear.
You believe wars can be won
You ask us to kill without fear.
But I have looked into your soul
And I see nothing that can lead.
You’re like the unwanted shoots
In our gardens we weed.
You give your big speeches
Telling others what’s right
Then you sit back and watch
While us poor men die and fight
You hole up in your finery
While the young pay the price
Death is the new currency
There’s no such thing as playing nice.
You peddle and spread fear
That seeps through us all
Frightened we cover
Onto your sword we fall.
For killing so many children
For being the cowards you are
You ain't worth the time
That got you this far.
What do I know
Speaking out as I do
You say I’m a romantic
You say I’m just a tool.
But there's one thing I’ve got
Being wiser than you
I know that god won’t forgive
All the evil that you do.
Let me ask you something
Is your power that strong?
Will it get you paradise on earth?
Is it really that not wrong?
I think you will see
When death comes your way
All the power you have
Will never get you another day.
I wish that you disappear
And your demise is assured
A cast out death dealer
So, the world’s no longer blurred.
And while the fire turns you to ash
And you are no more
I'll blow hard on those embers
Scattering them to every shore.
You bastards of war.
Go to hell.