Lorne Clarke
Lorne Clarke, Gold
Parades
Parades
words & music by Lorne Clarke
© 2003 - all rights reserved
I hate parades
I hate drums and bugles
And I won't salute a flag
Or a gasbag politician
Stealing honour from the dead
Just screwing with my head
I hate parades
I hate parades
I hate to say
That we're bringing up our children
On MTV and Raves
And not all that much schooling
Yet their factory jobs await
They'll make stuff we'll throw away
I hate to say
I hate to say
I hate the taste
Of corporate boot leather
As I grovel for my pay
But these times are desperate
And it's the price we have to pay
Throw our digniy away
I hate that taste
I hate the taste
I hate the face
That looks back from the mirror
A map of my mistakes
Landmarks like bomb craters
And tye panic in those eyes
Does not subside with time
I hate that face
I hate the face
I hate parades
I hate drums and bugles
And I won't salute a flag
Or a gasbag politician
Stealing glory from the dead
Just screwing with my head
I hate parades
I hate parade

KORREKTUREN ÃœBERMITTELN