Propagandhi A Speculative Fiction Letras:
A new iron curtain drawn across the 49th parallel.
Cut all diplomatic ties as we expel all American
dignitaries, and issue a nation-wide travel
advisory for any others left inside. Nowhere to
run. Nowhere to hide. The burned out shells of
south-bound traffic lay strewn across a cold
stretch of would-be interstate. Still visible
below their charred remains: Pax Americana plates.
Your stupid fucking laser-pucks were just the
start. And while you may stand six full cubits and
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a span, we got a shepard's sling and five stones
in our hand and the battle of 1812 lives in our
heart. We don't care if we're destroyed. We'll
never capitulate. We'll take the whole fucking
world down, down with us in flames. Just a
speculative fiction. No cause for alarm. We got a
good 15 years left till the United We Stand murals
on West Broadway finally fade and we wave good-bye
to such sad, childish refrains. Replaced with
other stupid lullabies like "you can have my
guns when you pry them from my cold dead
hands". Just a speculative fiction. No cause
for alarm.
Letras: A Speculative Fiction Propagandhi [final]