| Song | Four Blank Slates |
| Artist | David Rovics |
| Album | Halliburton Boardroom Massacre |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Beside an unused union hall | |
| And an abandoned factory | |
| By the Allegheny River | |
| In another rust belt city | |
| You can see the well-dressed families | |
| On Memorial Day | |
| Reading the names on the walls | |
| Of all those who went away | |
| Who went off in a ship | |
| And came back in a bag | |
| Packed into a coffin | |
| Wrapped up in a flag | |
| I saw a war on every stone | |
| I read a name on every line | |
| And when I reached the end | |
| A chill ran down my spine | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For battlefields yet unknown | |
| That soon some will call their own | |
| A wordless message in a frame | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For the dice that aren’t yet tossed | |
| For the lives that aren’t yet lost | |
| For a war without a name | |
| What will be written on that stone | |
| Will it be on Persian soil | |
| Will they say it was for freedom | |
| Or Venezuelan oil | |
| The only thing that’s certain | |
| Is it will be across the sea | |
| And the new names on this rock | |
| Will have died in someone else’s country | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For battlefields yet unknown | |
| That soon some will call their own | |
| A wordless message in a frame | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For the dice that aren’t yet tossed | |
| For the lives that aren’t yet lost | |
| For a war without a name | |
| How many other nations | |
| Are already planning their next war | |
| How many people know | |
| It’ll be on someone else’s shore | |
| Will there come a time | |
| When all good people are enraged | |
| To see a slate awaiting | |
| A war that’s not yet waged | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For battlefields yet unknown | |
| That soon some will call their own | |
| A wordless message in a frame | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For the dice that aren’t yet tossed | |
| For the lives that aren’t yet lost | |
| For a war without a name |
| Beside an unused union hall | |
| And an abandoned factory | |
| By the Allegheny River | |
| In another rust belt city | |
| You can see the welldressed families | |
| On Memorial Day | |
| Reading the names on the walls | |
| Of all those who went away | |
| Who went off in a ship | |
| And came back in a bag | |
| Packed into a coffin | |
| Wrapped up in a flag | |
| I saw a war on every stone | |
| I read a name on every line | |
| And when I reached the end | |
| A chill ran down my spine | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For battlefields yet unknown | |
| That soon some will call their own | |
| A wordless message in a frame | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For the dice that aren' t yet tossed | |
| For the lives that aren' t yet lost | |
| For a war without a name | |
| What will be written on that stone | |
| Will it be on Persian soil | |
| Will they say it was for freedom | |
| Or Venezuelan oil | |
| The only thing that' s certain | |
| Is it will be across the sea | |
| And the new names on this rock | |
| Will have died in someone else' s country | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For battlefields yet unknown | |
| That soon some will call their own | |
| A wordless message in a frame | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For the dice that aren' t yet tossed | |
| For the lives that aren' t yet lost | |
| For a war without a name | |
| How many other nations | |
| Are already planning their next war | |
| How many people know | |
| It' ll be on someone else' s shore | |
| Will there come a time | |
| When all good people are enraged | |
| To see a slate awaiting | |
| A war that' s not yet waged | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For battlefields yet unknown | |
| That soon some will call their own | |
| A wordless message in a frame | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For the dice that aren' t yet tossed | |
| For the lives that aren' t yet lost | |
| For a war without a name |
| Beside an unused union hall | |
| And an abandoned factory | |
| By the Allegheny River | |
| In another rust belt city | |
| You can see the welldressed families | |
| On Memorial Day | |
| Reading the names on the walls | |
| Of all those who went away | |
| Who went off in a ship | |
| And came back in a bag | |
| Packed into a coffin | |
| Wrapped up in a flag | |
| I saw a war on every stone | |
| I read a name on every line | |
| And when I reached the end | |
| A chill ran down my spine | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For battlefields yet unknown | |
| That soon some will call their own | |
| A wordless message in a frame | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For the dice that aren' t yet tossed | |
| For the lives that aren' t yet lost | |
| For a war without a name | |
| What will be written on that stone | |
| Will it be on Persian soil | |
| Will they say it was for freedom | |
| Or Venezuelan oil | |
| The only thing that' s certain | |
| Is it will be across the sea | |
| And the new names on this rock | |
| Will have died in someone else' s country | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For battlefields yet unknown | |
| That soon some will call their own | |
| A wordless message in a frame | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For the dice that aren' t yet tossed | |
| For the lives that aren' t yet lost | |
| For a war without a name | |
| How many other nations | |
| Are already planning their next war | |
| How many people know | |
| It' ll be on someone else' s shore | |
| Will there come a time | |
| When all good people are enraged | |
| To see a slate awaiting | |
| A war that' s not yet waged | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For battlefields yet unknown | |
| That soon some will call their own | |
| A wordless message in a frame | |
| Four blank slates | |
| For the dice that aren' t yet tossed | |
| For the lives that aren' t yet lost | |
| For a war without a name |