The white army’s marching again
Marching across unfathomed
sea
Be glad, ladies and gentlemen
Thanks God, their junk are free!
Warlords and leeches are here
With their vices that we’ll soon bear
These bloodsuckers, healthier than us
Will tell us to kiss their ass
Call ‘em whitey fellow monkeys
Don’t care ‘bout political donkeys
Don’t care ‘bout their dirty business
While they’re raiding our land
Call ‘em whitey, while they are
Revealing their grins, but not so far.
Our head don’t know what to do
So she walks through
That promised land of flies
That big, pretty pool of lies
Now it seems, it’s all the same
We still haven’t got a name
Our home doesn’t have anything
Only chains, that old silly thing
