youâre the plague on the western bank, iâm a nine to five compliant war machine. your motherlandâs in bed with israel, from five to nine letâs dissemble it.
youâll be alone. we are the blind united noose.
youâll be unknown. weâll set you free with words and stone.
are you a clock or just a cog in lingering guilt?
sweet magdalene, crying low beneath the tree where did you go? why did they take your lovers life? get to the car letâs make this right. the jim crow south, apartheid past in present tense. this strip of land, you speak of it like itâs your right, sweet magdaleneâs alone tonightâ¦
but that doesnât mean i donât feel a thing that doesnât mean itâs enough to choose a side on the pacific sun or feel awed by the greatness of the sea or shudder at what weâve becomeâ¦
that doesnât mean iâm a cog, iâll never be. i donât feel a thing. without a cause iâd fade away. itâs not to enough to choose a side when youâre the cause.