Stick the Fucking Flag up Your Goddam Ass, You Sonofabitch Lyrics
| Song | Stick the Fucking Flag up Your Goddam Ass, You Sonofabitch |
| Artist | Propagandhi |
| Album | How to Clean Everything |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Propa Gandhi | |
| my father told me "son, it's futile to resist, | |
| You can topple ideology but not the armies they enlist." | |
| I questioned the intentions of the boy scouts chanting war. | |
| "well that's the sound of freedom, son" he said. | |
| (free to say no more.) | |
| But wait a minute dad, did you actually say freedom? | |
| Well, if you're dumb enough to vote, | |
| You're fuckin dumb enough to believe him. | |
| Cuz if this country is so goddam free. | |
| Then i can burn your fucking flag wherever i damn well please, | |
| And i will stick the fucking flag up your ass | |
| I carried their anthem, convinces it was mine. | |
| Rhymeless, unreasoned conjecture kept me in line. | |
| But then i stood back and wondered what the fuck had they done to me. | |
| Made accomplice to all that i'd promised i would never fucking be. | |
| Never be. | |
| You carry their anthem convinces that it's yours. | |
| Invitation to honor. invitation to war. | |
| Bette midler now assumes sainthood. | |
| Romanticize murder for moral. | |
| Tie a yellow ribbon round the oak tree my friend, | |
| And "gee wally, that's swell!" | |
| Fuck the troops to hell! |
| zuo ci : Propa Gandhi | |
| my father told me " son, it' s futile to resist, | |
| You can topple ideology but not the armies they enlist." | |
| I questioned the intentions of the boy scouts chanting war. | |
| " well that' s the sound of freedom, son" he said. | |
| free to say no more. | |
| But wait a minute dad, did you actually say freedom? | |
| Well, if you' re dumb enough to vote, | |
| You' re fuckin dumb enough to believe him. | |
| Cuz if this country is so goddam free. | |
| Then i can burn your fucking flag wherever i damn well please, | |
| And i will stick the fucking flag up your ass | |
| I carried their anthem, convinces it was mine. | |
| Rhymeless, unreasoned conjecture kept me in line. | |
| But then i stood back and wondered what the fuck had they done to me. | |
| Made accomplice to all that i' d promised i would never fucking be. | |
| Never be. | |
| You carry their anthem convinces that it' s yours. | |
| Invitation to honor. invitation to war. | |
| Bette midler now assumes sainthood. | |
| Romanticize murder for moral. | |
| Tie a yellow ribbon round the oak tree my friend, | |
| And " gee wally, that' s swell!" | |
| Fuck the troops to hell! |
| zuò cí : Propa Gandhi | |
| my father told me " son, it' s futile to resist, | |
| You can topple ideology but not the armies they enlist." | |
| I questioned the intentions of the boy scouts chanting war. | |
| " well that' s the sound of freedom, son" he said. | |
| free to say no more. | |
| But wait a minute dad, did you actually say freedom? | |
| Well, if you' re dumb enough to vote, | |
| You' re fuckin dumb enough to believe him. | |
| Cuz if this country is so goddam free. | |
| Then i can burn your fucking flag wherever i damn well please, | |
| And i will stick the fucking flag up your ass | |
| I carried their anthem, convinces it was mine. | |
| Rhymeless, unreasoned conjecture kept me in line. | |
| But then i stood back and wondered what the fuck had they done to me. | |
| Made accomplice to all that i' d promised i would never fucking be. | |
| Never be. | |
| You carry their anthem convinces that it' s yours. | |
| Invitation to honor. invitation to war. | |
| Bette midler now assumes sainthood. | |
| Romanticize murder for moral. | |
| Tie a yellow ribbon round the oak tree my friend, | |
| And " gee wally, that' s swell!" | |
| Fuck the troops to hell! |
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