WAR BIZ

Who makes baby gore
run out red on mama's clean floor? Who makes a business of war? Who killed them-
why?
and what for?
You can call me weird 'n throw me no bone
but, you can bet it was not the work of a lost rollin' stone
and you know it was not the act of a soldier, some kid actin' alone
it was a whole society of killers; not just their hired drunken army
who think difference enough reason to hack off a branch of the one living tree.
who fear so deeply they lose touch with plain reality; send death wishes across a wide open sea aimed at people...people...who with two hands, two feet, two eyes and two ears, yearn just like me.
This song's not a-pointin' at anyone else you can see it's a sad song- the saddest on Earth-it wonders only when will we show we know:
what they want and we want are the same
Yes, what they want and we want are the same Yes, what they want and we want are the same
-to be free