Nostalgia Trip

Drape yourself in the warmth of red, white and blue Find solace in the legacy of rape, greed and deceit Sponges talk of union and strong identity But the only common ground I see is bodies in a heap If you were to wring it now you'd see the blood run thick Imperial slaughter in the name of relief You can wave your colours, but all I see is farce Pride shines and ties the boot that stops you looking up Drape yourself in the warmth of red, white and blue Wrap yourself blind in their great nostalgia trip See what you think you're fighting for has always been for them Blighty's pliant weapons - an easy means to all their ends Hordes of the wandering lost in the pits of an organised lust After the siege of spectacle mutilated and disfigured by storied symbols, the Golden Age of Massacre and her track-marks of success Fervid stories sell faith in blood and steel Sharpened in Ireland and primed for '03 Salvation cloaks the pursuit of money Corporate shadows stalk the framework of a mangled state It used to be mere foreign bodies burning on a pyre Don't kid yourself - you're next - in their pillage for the pound