Lots of rhyming going on, yo? Don't know if this is really my style any more, but I used to write shit like this all the time a few years back.
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Who's manning up to man the defences?
The patriot called, now come to his senses?
The bomb maimed your pride, now it mains you,
The fight that you sought, isn't the one that you're in,
It's Dirty. It's a Dirty old fight, It's Dirty.
Who's paying the fines for fucked up finances?
It isn't that banker, bailed out, "good intentions".
The shit hit the fan, now it hits you,
Staining your beautiful and hard earned suit,
It's Dirty. It's a Dirty new suit. It's Dirty.
Oh for a world that was clean, oh for a world that was clear,
For a world that, for you, held none of your fears,
The answer is simple, or so we are told,
It's repeated until our dreams are bought and are sold,
To make the world simple, to make our suits clean,
We have to get our hands Dirty.
We replace the stains with dirt that's unseen,
We have to get our hands Dirty.
Who watches the men who are watching us?
Who watches them? Are they watching themselves?
Your reflection of fear now reflects you,
But at least you can see what never was there,
It's Dirty. It's a Dirty new vision, It's Dirty.
Oh for a world that was sane, oh for a world that made sense,
For a world that, for you, held no more pretence,
The questions are scripted, the vision is bold,
A lie, oft repeated, becomes plated with gold,
To create a world in our image, to wipe the slate clean,
We have to get our hands Dirty.
We replace the stains with dirt that's unseen,
We have to get our hands Dirty.
To make the world simple, to make our suits clean,
We have to get our hands Dirty.
We have to get our hands Dirty.
