Funeral by Mekons
Your dead are buried, ours are reborn
You clean up the ashes while we light the fire
They're queuing up to dance on socialism's grave
This funeral is for the wrong corpse
This is my testimony, a dinosaur's confession
But how can something really be dead when it hasn't
even happened?
Democracy is an alibi
The peaceful country is an ordered cemetery
What you call a sane man is now an impotent man
Smart bombs replace the dumb bombs
We can aim right into someone's kitchen
Hard rice sprays from the cooking pot
Into the eyes delicate jelly
When the natural order gets unruly
The cost of living starts going up
That makes a man's live worth so much less?
In the boring land of the snoring men
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