It’s a bitter wind that’s blowing
And it’s time to be going
It does no good to ask where
There’s been many a tear
And laughter to haunt the years
Still there is joy left behind
For while we were sleeping
Something came creeping
To steal our dreams away
Now it’s time to go, can’t say where, don’t know
Why did we not all read the signs?
Cops and robbers, now one and the same
Some work like the devil, while the real devils rake it in
The chain of command binds every hand
And every had reaches for a pocket
Each hand reaches for a pocket
Gang bangers in suits with flag-pin lapels
Spewing God, Country and Honor
Meaning torture, death and hell
The poets and the dreamers fallen to the propaganda schemers
For sure he’s not getting the record contract
Be lucky to get his life back
Bodies are bound by chains to the master
More hopeless the master is chained to the corpse of his rotting mind
And to the lies that he calls his “lifestyle”.
And the rest of the rot that makes up “The Good Life”.
It’s a bitter wind that’s blowing
It’s time to be going
I just hope there is a somewhere
There’s been many a tear and much laughter to fill the years
Still there is joy left behind.
Who wrote this program?
Lies and more lies smothered in spin sauce
But the dream of a man is that one day his children thrive
Live strong, breath free
Each one proudly claim his reason
I would have enjoyed it more
But for the creeping treason
That must betray the words
Betray all the lovely words
It’s a bitter wind that’s blowing
And it’s time to be going
I only hope there is a somewhere
There’s many a tear
And much laughter to haunt the years
Still there is joy left behind
Still there is joy left behind
