transnational global capitalism
Posted: July 26th, 2014, 2:00 pm
When the plane crashes in Ukraine
the whole world has gone insane
the violin plays in the red royal rain
in vain will they unite again
there is a lone street in Russia
where the ocean of surfs gathers its strength
a sea of blood has been drunk in rapid revolutions
of the transfusions of power, thine holy hour
rises with the secret salute to her black hole in Siberia
exploding in our collective imaginations
crystal lights from above mount the staircase, the car chase
the underground base, the forbidden race, the unloved face
cannot erase all trace of the rocket the brought her down
with her glorious crown of cities under fire, they know not
what they have wrought, only what they have sought, not
in the step sequence that never ends in tragic splendor
all the wars that have been bought and sold for solid state
oh, mother of lions and sheep they would put the world to sleep
were it for the gold hidden in the sun of their precious tears
manufactured fears and spears of destiny tossed like saloon darts
and the gears do grind for their pleasure, a hidden treasure, black arts
which must never be found, can you hear the sound of measure
the moment before the misguided missile hits its mistake a remake
on the tube of rubes instant replay rolls the loaded dice in the end game
the planes the planes the planes are falling from the skies but we don't know why
they told us in the news so it must be true, oh the sword
is not wise if in is not forged in the dreams of children
who drop like philosopher's stones over the field of no man's land
and the battles are fought in five star hotels on high class prostitute's
back, they make their plans on chess boards make of pure heroin and crack
they sing old drunken songs of empire and conspire to make new order out of total chaos
but which plane do we see that has vanished into the sea of holy blood and covet grail
the cheap rockets land in the unholy land like the grand finale of the nutcracker suite
all the stars in the world tree lit up at once in the middle of the great leader square
and they all where there in all their finery and universe jewels decking their fanged necks
and all the jet wrecks did shine in the divine glitter and glow from triangle facet to facet
those pathetic old generals in the pant a gone snort pure cold war caviar a badge too far
over the border of their last line drawn in the snow of melting reasons to blow it all to hell
the whole world has gone insane
the violin plays in the red royal rain
in vain will they unite again
there is a lone street in Russia
where the ocean of surfs gathers its strength
a sea of blood has been drunk in rapid revolutions
of the transfusions of power, thine holy hour
rises with the secret salute to her black hole in Siberia
exploding in our collective imaginations
crystal lights from above mount the staircase, the car chase
the underground base, the forbidden race, the unloved face
cannot erase all trace of the rocket the brought her down
with her glorious crown of cities under fire, they know not
what they have wrought, only what they have sought, not
in the step sequence that never ends in tragic splendor
all the wars that have been bought and sold for solid state
oh, mother of lions and sheep they would put the world to sleep
were it for the gold hidden in the sun of their precious tears
manufactured fears and spears of destiny tossed like saloon darts
and the gears do grind for their pleasure, a hidden treasure, black arts
which must never be found, can you hear the sound of measure
the moment before the misguided missile hits its mistake a remake
on the tube of rubes instant replay rolls the loaded dice in the end game
the planes the planes the planes are falling from the skies but we don't know why
they told us in the news so it must be true, oh the sword
is not wise if in is not forged in the dreams of children
who drop like philosopher's stones over the field of no man's land
and the battles are fought in five star hotels on high class prostitute's
back, they make their plans on chess boards make of pure heroin and crack
they sing old drunken songs of empire and conspire to make new order out of total chaos
but which plane do we see that has vanished into the sea of holy blood and covet grail
the cheap rockets land in the unholy land like the grand finale of the nutcracker suite
all the stars in the world tree lit up at once in the middle of the great leader square
and they all where there in all their finery and universe jewels decking their fanged necks
and all the jet wrecks did shine in the divine glitter and glow from triangle facet to facet
those pathetic old generals in the pant a gone snort pure cold war caviar a badge too far
over the border of their last line drawn in the snow of melting reasons to blow it all to hell