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Lyrics | Artists: C | CRASS lyrics | Birth Control lyrics

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<pre><font size='+2'>BIRTH CONTROL lyrics CRASS</font><br>Industry on the mercenary bloodpath<br />
Military loves the gory warbath<br />
Economics shape the battle landscape<br />
All join together for the grand rape<br />
Moral intentions make a scapegoat<br />
Excuse the rotting corpse inside the trenchcoat<br />
Praise the rotting minds above the club tie<br />
That sits in towers up in the blue sky<br />
Above the clouds, obscure the scarred earth<br />
Discuss manoeuvres, moves for more death<br />
Arms make profit from the crushed head<br />
Build the towers up on the ditch dead<br />
Betrayal forms the formal skyline<br />
Tinted windows catch the sunshine<br />
Such ice cold beauty makes the heart sink<br />
Five thousand miles away the dead stink<br />
And here the graveyard to insult them<br />
The city shines with laughing tombstones<br />
The profiteers, the warcry butchers<br />
Stir up the lust for legal slaughter<br />
The living dead who look up to them<br />
Who accept authority the kills them<br />
Work for the corporation making napalm<br />
Workers watch the burning children <br />
On T.V. as they eat their meat pie<br />
With refusal in their minds eye <br />
To see their own lives in that cold death<br />
Their state of wealth upon that lost breath<br />
In the official offices of deathplan <br />
Leaders of men work to betray man<br />
Stocks and shares declare the next war<br />
The torture starts behind the locked door<br />
Propaganda tops the big desk<br />
Compose an overture to fine death<br />
The hideous grey men of our nightmares<br />
Dim the colour, foul the clean air<br />
Their eyes forsake all that they dwell on<br />
Drag the lover from the loved ones<br />
Patriots progress is a backstep <br />
A cruel noose around a young neck<br />
They teach our children in the classroom<br />
To respect a madman on a rostrum<br />
To praise the the dirty works of battle<br />
Bring out the ribbon, balloon and rattle<br />
To dig their own graves in the cold earth<br />
So sad and pointless now to give birth<br><br><a href='http://www.lyricsbay.com' target='_blank'>LyricsBay</a> | <a href="http://www.lyricsbay.com/birth_control_lyrics-crass.html" target='_blank'>BIRTH CONTROL lyrics CRASS</a></pre>

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Birth Control lyrics translation:
CRASS Birth Control song texte and letras
CRASS Birth Control tab, paroles and testo
CRASS Birth Control Karaoke and Music Video - none yet

Birth Control lyrics

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Industry on the mercenary bloodpath
Military loves the gory warbath
Economics shape the battle landscape
All join together for the grand rape
Moral intentions make a scapegoat
Excuse the rotting corpse inside the trenchcoat
Praise the rotting minds above the club tie
That sits in towers up in the blue sky
Above the clouds, obscure the scarred earth
Discuss manoeuvres, moves for more death
Arms make profit from the crushed head
Build the towers up on the ditch dead
Betrayal forms the formal skyline
Tinted windows catch the sunshine
Such ice cold beauty makes the heart sink
Five thousand miles away the dead stink
And here the graveyard to insult them
The city shines with laughing tombstones
The profiteers, the warcry butchers
Stir up the lust for legal slaughter
The living dead who look up to them
Who accept authority the kills them
Work for the corporation making napalm
Workers watch the burning children
On T.V. as they eat their meat pie
With refusal in their minds eye
To see their own lives in that cold death
Their state of wealth upon that lost breath
In the official offices of deathplan
Leaders of men work to betray man
Stocks and shares declare the next war
The torture starts behind the locked door
Propaganda tops the big desk
Compose an overture to fine death
The hideous grey men of our nightmares
Dim the colour, foul the clean air
Their eyes forsake all that they dwell on
Drag the lover from the loved ones
Patriots progress is a backstep
A cruel noose around a young neck
They teach our children in the classroom
To respect a madman on a rostrum
To praise the the dirty works of battle
Bring out the ribbon, balloon and rattle
To dig their own graves in the cold earth
So sad and pointless now to give birth

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