we'd been twelve years down so they rallied all around and they offered up the boys to die trading blood for money, selling flags and spining lies and business getting better was the battle cry its got nothing to do with you its not a happy story you wont see em running the numbers but you'll see who gets the fucking glory urban epidemics always seem much more severe when problems turn from black to white and candle-coated vigils always seeming to sincere atleast until the end of the night they're selling flags and spinning lies while sending someone elses son's to die