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Sunday, 28 April 2013

The Blood of them Government Boys

In a camp you've never heard of
      in a land you've never been
Is a kid in charge of a rebel march
      no older than seventeen
They say that he's the deadliest kid
      these rebel troops have ever raised
He's killed twice as many of them Gov'ment boys
      as any rebel twice his age

He wears his scars like his medals and stars
      there's blood underneath his nails
He'll string a village up and then he'll hack machete cut
      blood panic bile torture entrails
Some say he chiselled his teeth to a point
      some say he scarred his own face
Even the jungle where he hides in the trees
      is afraid

I watched him trade children for horses
      I watched him swap five kids for just one stud
He had them hook a cart to the back of the horse
      and the cart was all covered in blood
Because the hospitals couldn't save one soul
      so they'd bring that cart around
And they'd load up them bodies up with their gunpowder brains
      and take them to a hole in the ground

And somewhere between the graves that they dig
      for the their own bloodied brothers been slain
And the stains on the Earth where the villages they've burned
      still smoke from the rapey remains
Is a hope that the terror-filled jungle
      can offer up some kind of shelter for change
And a hope that the blood of them Government boys
      doesn't stain