You shout about your freedom,
You bleed for weak and poor
Pouring out your conscience
Of which you're really sure
But
who will save democracy
When all the killing's done?
Certainly not you with your
Bombs and knives and guns
Slave to
freedom
The bodies of the fallen will be your epitaph
You may not laugh the longest,
But you will not laugh the last
And
who will save democracy
When all the killing's done?
Certainly not you with your
Bombs and knives and guns
Slave to
freedom - your rules are nearly through
Slave to freedom - you shout for you and you
You shout about the innocent
But your guilt
is plain to see
The money's in your pocket
When the headcounting is through