Story Behind The Song

Anger at a war precipitated on the basis of lies, deciet, and greed. The author was himself in WW II and has a real feeling for what war is about.

Song Description

The song tells the listener what is in fact happening behind the carefully spun propaganda of the warmongers.

Lyrics

Dyin? in the Sand

Dyin? in the sand
far from home,
no bands to play,
we just stay,
alive or dead,
our blood being shed
for the Bushie gang
and corporate oil.
We toil and we boil,
and all that counts
is oil, oil, oil.

No bands for us,
no way,
but they play
for the boss man,
hey, hey!
We?re spillin? our blood
on foreign soil ?
don?t you know?
It?s oil, oil.

The cars blow up
every damn day
in this land far away.
Listen, not hard to hear
but hard to bear:
bombs blowin? up
and cries
and the sighs
of dying
and the crying
of kids
whose blood
runs away
in these sands
far away.

But the oil?s there
and the boss lies
while stock shares rise,
and we fall
while the boss man
stands tall
and smiles at the world;
what does he care
if we die in the sands
of a far-away land?
He gets his share
of the goodies,
and his whores
keep it all quiet,
keep it quiet,
hide the coffins
and the oil keeps flowin?.
It makes no difference
if we?re goin?
down, down
into the sands,
of a far-away land,
and no bands
to play for kids
who thought it right
to shoot at this world
to make it right.
What a laugh!

Yeah, keep the oil flowin?!
But It ain?t right,
don?t you know it?
It ain?t right
to die in the sand
of a far-away land.
The oil ain?t worth
the lives of these kids,
ain?t worth
the lives of these kids.

Our blood
shouldn?t be pourin?
into these sands,
and there ain?t no bands
except for boss,
who?s less than a man,
a coward who ran,
but smirks at the world,
plays on a ranch
and struts stuff ?
what stuff?
Nothin? but shit
all around.
Hey! he needs, yeah,
needs to be hurled
to the ground,
and to learn
about blood
in the sand
?cause he knows nothin?
of men blown to bits
in the sands
of a far-away land.

No bands for them,
no bands.
No coffins
allowed to be seen,
no crowds to mourn,
no bands,
just sand and blood,
blood and sand,
and plenty of oil,
oh, yeah, plenty of oil
mixed with blood
of kids who died
in the sands
of a far-away land.