The War Is Over, You Lose Blues
I watched the T.V. late last night,
and watched corporate Nazi's try to explain
their plight.
Cheshire, dollar grinning C.E.O.'s
justified moving from the cities
that paid their bills.
Tax breaks, easements, incentives
and local blood were not enough
to keep them in the neighborhood.
I watched the T.V. late last night,
heard the catch in the throat of some
kindly corporate chief that regretted
letting go of some of his old friends in the ranks.
But this is war and you know
scorched earth and torture help
the "fittest" show a profit.
"Heil" to the fourth!
Announce it loud and clear.
From Nam to Faluja we see
the ghost of Smedley Butler.
They don't need no stinkin' Hitler
and downsized his butt
more than sixty years ago.
I watched the T.V. late last night,
fell asleep and dreamed a bit
of pathetic scheming company types
at some cosmic Nuremburg.
One by one they answer charges with
the same refrain. "It wasn't me. It wasn't me.
I answered to the stockholders.
It's them you need to blame."
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