This is a song that came upon me one night When the news it had been telling me 'Bout one more war and one more fight. "Aihee" I sighed But then I thought about my friends Then I wrote this declaration Just in case the world end.
Our guns? We shot them in the things we said Ah, we did not need no bullets Cos we rely on some words instead. We'd kill someone in argument Outwit them with our brains And we'd kill ourselves a'laughing At the funny things we'd say.
Our bombs? We had them saved for special times when the crew would call a shake down We'd break down a party landmine. Women that so sexy They explode us with their looks Ah, we blowing up the speakers jumping round til the ground shook.
And missiles, were the road trips that we launched Tripping cross this island Starting missions at the break of dawn. We'd yawn and smile say "What direction shall we take?" We going somewhere where it warm and wet This be the route we'd always take.
Our weapons were our instruments, Made from some timber and steel. We never yielded to conformity But stood like kings In the chariot that's riding on a record wheel.
Our air force flying when the frisbee in the sky Have a session while we smoking Then we feeling extra high. Then we'd sneak into a car park With the skaties on our back And we flying down the levels Howling "on the attack now, on the attack".
Our battles? They happened in the dance-hall See we'd rather fight with music Choosing one the rhythm war. So we battled at the shake downs And we battling at the gigs We did battle in our bedrooms Made some sweet love to the beat.
Then our allies grew wherever we would roam See whenever we together Any stranger feel at home. In a way we are an army But this army not destruct No instead we doing simple things good loving find it run a muck.
This be the declaration written about my friends It's engraved into this song So they know I'm not forgetting them. See maybe if the world contained More people like these, Then the news would not be telling me About all that warfare endlessly.
Our weapons were our instruments, Made from some timber and steel. We never yielded to conformity But stood like kings In the chariot that's riding on a record wheel.